


Come Wind, Come Weather

by X23 Maximoff (whindsor)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: (but not at the same time), (consent is important), And gore, Be ready for that, Bucky/OC - Freeform, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friendship, Romance, Slow Burn, So yea, War is hell, also the boys swear like a couple of brooklyn boys in ww2 so, and Violente, and bloody, and hydra is angsty af, and sexy, and swearing, definitely be forewarned if you don't like blood, summer soldier, things are gonna get Dramatique, this will be much different than silver and honey, winter soldier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-01-04 18:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 52
Words: 227,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21202442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whindsor/pseuds/X23%20Maximoff
Summary: It was supposed to be a fairytale romance, a soldier and an army nurse. They were supposed to last out the war, then go home and have it all. But Hydra took away everything except for the bond between them. And while this is a love story, it is also a story about pain, and loss, and the ghosts left behind. Peace follows war, just as Summer follows Winter. Bucky/OC.





	1. Surge - July 7, 1943

**July 7, 1943**

Turns out, getting shot  _ fucking hurt _ . 

But Bucky didn’t have time to think about the pain in his arm and the way it shot straight down into his hand any time he moved. He had his men to think about, and the guys in front of him that he had to gun down before they got him first. He was lucky the round had landed in his arm instead of his chest, where the dead Nazi on the other side of the trench originally aimed.  _ Him or me _ , Bucky thought to himself. He had to repeat that mantra every time he took a life, because otherwise he’d be buried under the weight of all the death he caused. This was war, and in a time of war, there was one thing to do - win.

Though the gunfire around him had ceased, there was still a steady staccato of it echoing from down the hill. He ignored the pain in his arm and the gross sensation of blood soaking into his sleeve, shouldering his gun and running straight across the uneven ground to an overlook he’d spotted earlier. Between the quickly coming night and the absolute bedlam down below, he’d be more effective from this angle. He unslung the large rifle from his back, quickly sprawling out next to a large tree and adjusting so he had the perfect view. He hoped it was big enough to hide his position long enough for him to take out the guys manning the giant machine gun. He took a deep breath, and then another for good measure, trying to lower his heart rate and get the adrenaline out. What good was a marksman if he was all hopped up? 

Adjust for the wind,  _ click-click-click _ . Adjust for the elevation,  _ click-click _ . Sight. Breathe in for four, out for seven, squeeze.  _ Boom _ .

Hit.

One man fell, sending the machine gun careening to one side, dirt flying up where the bullets dug into the hillside. His counterpart grabbed the handles, using his entire weight to shift it wildly in an attempt to fell the sniper. Bucky quickly adjusted again,  _ click, click-click, _ hold breath, shoot.  _ Boom _ .

Miss.

“Fuck!” Bucky yelled, pounding the ground in anger and regretting it immediately as pain flared in his arm. He couldn’t wait for the guy to run out of bullets, he needed to take him out  _ now _ . He was the only thing keeping this battle going. He reset his gun, his position. He slowed down this time, doing everything how he was supposed to. Breathe in for four, out for seven. Squeeze.  _ Boom _ .

That bullet found its home, and a blanket of silence covered them as the machine gun was left unmanned. He let out something between a sigh and a groan, leaning his head against the rough bark of the tree as the last of his adrenaline seeped out. With the natural anesthetic fading, the pain in his arm came back full force, as well as the realization that his pinky finger was starting to go numb. Shit,  _ that _ couldn’t be a good sign. 

He refused to look down at his arm, knowing that if he did then the pain would increase  _ at least _ ten fold. And as he stumbled down to see who was left of his men, he ignored the feeling of blood dripping from his hand, telling himself that the drops hitting the ground were just rainfall from the trees. The lightheadedness he felt was just fatigue from battle; he’d be right as rain as soon as they got back to camp and he got a strong cup of that shit they called coffee. The rifle carelessly slung over his back ( _ did he remember to flip the safety? _ ) clattered as he searched his men for signs of life, his heart in his throat as he tallied each death that he would carry home with him.  _ Jameson, Thompson, Holmes, Frazier _ . Four more on the tally; four more strikes against him, four more sets of dog tags into his pocket. They told him in the brief, half-ass command training that the names didn’t matter, but to Bucky, it did. Each tally was a man that trusted him, and a man that would not return home. 

“Sarge, you’re bleeding.” Camp remarked, his own breath a rattle as Bucky pulled the man’s arm around his shoulders and heaved him to his feet. He tried not to be sick at the limp, broken way his leg hung from his hip, only praying to whatever god that probably couldn’t hear them from this low that he would survive the amputation.

“I’m fine. ‘S’not mine, mostly.” he replied, using his good arm to latch onto the soldier’s belt and heaving him towards the rendezvous point. It was a lie, of course, but he wasn’t about to complain of his bullet wound to a guy who was about to suffer much worse. He also wanted to tell him not to call him  _ sarge _ \- he wasn’t really a sergeant, he’d just fallen into the role when a few superiors caught a bad case of the deads. 

“I got him, Sarge. Harrison needs you.” Williams interrupted their trek, taking Camp by the arm and pulling him away before Bucky had a say so. He opened his mouth to protest, to remind the Corporal of his rank, but one look silenced him. He knew what that look meant: Harrison needed him because Bucky was the one of the few who’d been dragged to church more than twice a year as a kid, even if it was by Steve and his ailing mother. Bucky nodded, relinquishing his last hold on the private before going in the direction Williams directed, hoping that he wasn’t too late.

It was hard to find Harrison amongst the bloody and broken bodies, and Bucky would’ve missed him entirely if it weren’t for the gurgling wheeze of him trying to breathe. The private was sprawled across two dead Nazis, their arm bands stained with the blood draining from the wound in his abdomen. Bucky didn’t know how the kid was still alive with a wound that size, but based on the look on his face and the pallor of his skin, he wasn’t going to stay that way for long.

“Hey, hey Harrison.” Bucky said, collapsing down next to him. He tried to reach for his hand, but found that his arm was not willing to cooperate; never mind that, he still had the other one. Harrison grasped his fingers weakly, blood seeming to cover every part of him. “You’re gonna be okay, kid.”

“No’m not, Sarge.” he gasped out. He coughed, blood spurting from his mouth and dripping down his chin. “But that’s okay. I know w-where I’m goin’, and-”

“Shut up, save your strength.” Bucky interrupted. It didn’t matter how much strength the kid saved, he was going to die. But if he talked anymore, then Bucky was going to break down, and that was not what he needed to do right now. Bucky didn’t actually know any sacraments or spiritual doctrines, as he’d forgotten them long before he was drafted into the Army. “Any confessions you wanna make?”

“Nah, God and I already had a-a talk-” he was interrupted by another bout of coughing, blood spraying over the front of Bucky’s uniform. It didn’t disturb him, he just idly thought that now he wouldn’t be lying to Camp about whose blood was soaked into it. Harrison’s grip suddenly grew stronger, his eyes bright with fear. Bucky held his hand tightly, knowing in the back of his mind that this was the surge before the flame went out. “Tell my-my ma…”

“I’ll tell her how brave you were. How you killed more Nazis than killed you.” Bucky said, making the kid give him the weakest smile. “I’ll tell her about how you were an exemplary soldier, and a brother in arms, and a goddamn national treasure.”

“Forget all that, Sarge.” he whispered. His fingers were starting to loosen now, his breaths coming shallower. His eyes were no longer focused on Bucky, instead looking somewhere past him, somewhere he couldn’t follow. “Just tell her I love her.”

“I will. I promise I will.” Bucky said, his voice steady and sure. It wasn’t calmness, it was numbness, the kind associated with a complete loss of hope in a situation. Nothing he did was going to change this. Harrison nodded, though the movement seemed to hurt, and the kid couldn’t even manage to close his eyes before death stole him away. Bucky let out a long breath, letting go of the kid’s hand before leaning over and finally giving in to his desire to vomit. It was mostly bile and shame; shame that he had to do this, shame that he couldn’t save him, shame that while Steve had said time and again how much he wanted to come over here and serve, Bucky had tried his damndest to avoid it until his number was drawn. 

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, wondering exactly what else smeared across his face. With a calm he didn’t know he could possess, he reached out and tugged the dog tags from the private’s neck and collapsed down next to him, not noticing or caring how damp the ground was with blood and sweat and whatever else was there. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and wedged it between two bloody fingers, ignoring the pain it took to perch his arm on his knee so that he could light it. He took a long drag from it, letting the smoke drift away into the night sky. He should worry about his arm, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Hail Mary,” he whispered, his throat raw with emotion. He took another drag to steady himself, even if no one was around to hear the shaking in his voice. “full of grace…”

_ Harrison _ . Another strike. 

Once he finished his prayer and his cigarette, he tucked the dog tags into his pocket with the others, their jingling with each step reminding him how he wasn’t fast enough, how his bullets weren’t accurate enough. And now, five families were going to answer the door to a man in uniform who was going to hand them the tags and a letter of condolence with all the sympathy the Army could pack onto a piece of parchment. 

He joined the stragglers at the back of the pack as they all limped back to base camp, their bodies worn and weary from battle. Some had to lean on others to make the trip, but they stubbornly kept on, unwilling to give in to the Reaper just yet. The light was quickly disappearing, the muddy road starting to blend with the inky black of the trees around them. They just had to take their parade a couple more kilometers, then they could collapse. It was dark and silent when they made it back, meaning they were the first platoon to do so, but as soon as they passed through the makeshift gate the base seemed to come to life. Lights flicked on in every tent, and medical staff ran out of the large field hospital to take the wounded, assessing them with record speed. Camp (the man) was practically thrown onto a stretcher, his injured leg flopping around as two nurses manned either end of it and ran him in to the infirmary. Bucky needed to follow him, he knew. But he also knew that the Major would want to talk to him first. He used his right hand to pick up his left, his fingers barely awake enough to grab on to the straps of his gun. There. Now he was casual.

“Sergeant Barnes.” the Major greeted him without looking up from his paperwork. Bucky saluted anyway, just in case. “Report.”

“Five dead. Still calculating wounded. Eliminated all enemy threats.” he said concisely. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could get some goddamn coffee and some morphine for the pain. That is, if the new nurses would give him any. They’d switched out the night before, as well as the physician staff, and he hadn’t gotten to meet any of them yet. 

“So you got the machine gun?” the Major asked. Bucky was silent, long enough that the Major’s pen paused and he looked up at him, anger simmering in his gaze and his voice eerily calm. “You did bring back the machine gun, didn’t you?”

“We were low on man power, Camp couldn’t even walk on his own-” Bucky tried to explain, tried to cover for his brothers-in-arms, but the Major wouldn’t hear it.

“That was your main objective.” he interrupted. Bucky opened his mouth to snap back that no, that  _ hadn’t _ been the main objective, the main objective had been to kill all the fucking Nazis and prevent them from advancing further. “And now, if we don’t waste our time and resources to send out a second team, they’re gonna  _ recover _ the massive weapon that could shred us all.”

“Apologies, sir.” Bucky responded through gritted teeth. What, did the Major want him personally to go back and get it? As if he could hear the sarcastic response in his head, the Major sighed in the tired and passive aggressive way of a mildly disappointed grandmother, shaking his head.

“Go find Birdwell and send him to me. Then get that arm looked at, it looks like shit.” he said, dropping his eyes and carrying on his paperwork as if he was bored with the conversation. That was the closest thing to a dismissal Bucky was going to get, and he was going to take it. He gave a half-hearted salute (not giving in to the temptation to give it with one finger), turning on his heel and marching out of the tent to the mess hall. Usually at this time, Birdwell was sitting down to cards with the kitchen staff, a fact which would help Bucky kill two birds with one bullet. He ducked into the large tent, nodding in greeting to the few of his men that had made it in for whatever food was there. He could see their eyes taking in his bloody appearance, see the question on their lips -  _ shouldn’t you be in the med tent?  _ \- but he ignored them, going instead to the back where Birdwell was chewing on a cigar and sitting on a crate, laughing maniacally over the cards in his hand.

“Now boys, there’s no need to be mad about - Barnes.” his thought was interrupted by Bucky’s entrance. Bucky smirked, leaning against the post in what he hoped was a casual manner. It definitely wasn’t because of the lightheadedness, not at all.

“There’s every need to be mad about me.” Bucky replied, nodding at one of the kitchen guys when he pointed to the coffee pot on the stove. “Major wants to see you.”

Birdwell groaned, his gaze skyward. “What did you fuck up now?” he asked, throwing his cards onto the makeshift table. Bucky took his time answering, instead taking the cup of coffee from the kitchen kid and taking a long sip of it, savoring the burnt, stale taste before facing his fellow again.

“Apparently, he’s pissed that I can’t single handedly roll back a fuckin’ Nazi gatling gun.” he responded, taking another drink of the coffee for good measure. God this stuff was horrible. 

“But you’d need a tank to do that.” Birdwell said, his brows furrowed. 

“Exactly.” Bucky responded. Now that he had a bit of a caffeine fix, he could really use another cigarette.

“Did you have a tank with you?” he asked.

“Nope.” he replied, popping the p on the end of the word. 

“Of course you didn’t.” Birdwell said with a sigh, pushing himself up and grabbing his fatigue shirt from where he’d tossed it over the back of a chair. “Fine, Barnes. I’ll go clean up your mess. Meanwhile, you should get that arm checked out. It looks like shit.” 

“Yea, I’m aware.” he said. Birdwell did up his buttons and tilted his hat in farewell to the boys, the breeze as he passed by enough to make Bucky’s arm throb. He figured that he was out of excuses now, and he needed to go ahead and go to the medical tent before he ended up like Camp - a day late and a limb short. 

The makeshift hospital was a bustle of activity when he arrived, nurses running every which way to tend to the soldiers lined up on the beds. Most of them bit on sheets and sleeves to keep their groans of pain quiet, not wanting to disturb those in more severe situations. A sickening  _ crack _ reached Bucky’s ears as one of the physicians reset a broken bone, the soldier screeching in pain until it overwhelmed him and pushed him into unconsciousness. In the far corner, a surgeon and two nurses worked on Camp, who was a lucky enough bastard to get some sort of sedative while they tried to save his leg. 

“What’s wrong with you?” a man asked sharply. Bucky jumped, which brought a new wave of agony through his arm, and turned to see a grey-haired physician blinking at him through thick glasses. 

“Got shot.” he replied, unable to verbalize more than that. The hospital was overwhelming him, reminding him that no matter what he did, he wasn’t going to be able to save everyone. The physician looked at the arm, roughly poking two fingers through the bullet hole in his sleeve and ripping the fabric apart. Bucky hissed, but otherwise hid the discomfort, allowing the man to assess the wound. Surprisingly, it wasn’t really bleeding anymore, just seeping uncomfortably. 

“You’ll be fine. Just need stitches.” he said, letting go of him and calling to one of the nurses.

“Wait, just stitches? You’re not gonna take out the bullet?” Bucky asked, surprised. It certainly felt like he needed more than just  _ stitches _ . The physician didn’t look at him, instead barking at one of the nurses to see to him. A young, mousy looking girl scurried over, her hands shaking as she gathered a suture kit from the shelves. Oh, no. That wasn’t a good sign. 

“Hi, um, I’m Angela.” she said, putting a tentative hand on his back and directing him to a table. She barely touched him, and Bucky wondered if it was because of shyness or because he was covered in blood and filth. She patted a chair so lightly that he didn’t hear it, and he was lucky to know the gesture was meant to tell him to sit down. She situated his arm using just her fingertips, making sure to put it in the least comfortable position before dragging over a lamp and settling on the stool on the other side of the table. “Now, let’s see what we got here.”

Trembling hands cut his sleeve further, exposing his arm from shoulder to elbow. She carefully washed her hands and donned gloves before opening the suture kit, reverently placing each piece of it on the sterile field. She took gauze and some sort of cleaning solution to his arm, but her touch was so light that she was barely scrubbing away any of the impurities. Bucky sighed; if she didn’t pick up the pace, they were going to be there all night. 

“You’re not gonna hurt me, Angie.” he said. She looked up at him like a deer caught in headlights, her hands going still. God, she looked so  _ young _ . He gestured for her to continue. “Just get in there and clean it. I got shot, I can handle this part.”

“Okay. Um, yes, Sergeant.” she said, trying to be official. He gave her a confused look, wondering why in the hell she was addressing him so formally, and figuring that this was the poor thing’s first assignment. She started cleaning a little more fervently, though just barely, and Bucky distracted himself by watching the surgeon and nurses operate on Camp. The man’s leg already looked dead, the skin pale and grey under the lamps. He couldn’t see exactly what they were doing, but he could hear the sounds of the tools, and the low murmurings as they worked. Angela kept her eyes on his arm, using an intense amount of focus to clean before finally,  _ finally _ , picking up the suture needle. She stopped, needle poised over his skin, and seemed to be having some sort of internal dialogue about whether or not she could do this.

“Get on with it, Angie. The anticipation may kill me before the Nazis do.” He meant to say it as a joke, to lighten the mood, but even he could hear the slight edge to his voice. In another life he would have flirted with her and made her giggle until she was more comfortable, but he was tired, and hungry, and ready for this doe-eyed nurse to get on with her job so he could get on with his. She jumped and audibly squeaked, which would have been endearing if they were in any other predicament, before taking a shuddering breath and digging the needle into his skin. 

As far as stitches go, they weren’t the worst he’d ever had. No, that award still went to the time he split his eyebrow open and his kid sister insisted that she could fix it for him (he still had scars from  _ that _ experiment gone wrong). But they were, by far, not the best. He didn’t know why he expected Angela to work quickly, but he was somehow surprised by how slow and precise her movements were. He was happy she was taking great care in this, he really was, but he’d aged seventy years since she sat him down in the chair and the end was barely in sight. He grit his teeth against the pain, knowing if he said anything else it would really throw the girl for a loop, and tried to focus on literally anything else to pass the time. He could feel the needle biting into his skin, cutting through the layers, curving through to poke out the other side of his wound, and he wondered briefly if this was what getting a tattoo felt like. 

A clattering from across the room snapped him and Angela to attention, the latter forgetting she had a needle and thread in her hands and essentially cinching up the bullet hole in his arm like the mouth of a drawstring bag. He couldn’t stop the cry of pain at that, and marveled that somehow the thread didn’t completely shred his skin. In her surprised, Angela dropped the needle, allowing enough slack in the thread for the pain to dull just slightly. At the other end of the hospital, the physician and nurses working on Camp were scrambling, pulling equipment and gauze every which way as his body convulsed. Their previously crisp, white uniforms were now splattered in blood, the sheets underneath him quickly turning red as well. One of the nurses crawled onto the table, placing her hands on Camp’s residual leg and using her entire body weight to staunch the bleeding. She looked up, her green eyes piercing through Bucky from all the way across the room.

“Angela!” she snapped, her voice strained as she tried to maintain her hold. “Are you done yet?”

“Um, I-” Angela turned back to Bucky, finding the thread and needle still hanging from his arm. She jumped at the sight, turning back to the other nurse and calling, “I’ll be just a second!”

“I can tie it off, if you need.” he said, but Angela just shook her head in response. Her hands weren’t trembling gently now, but instead full on shaking as she tied the thread. Every movement sent pain through his bicep, but at least some feeling was coming back to his hand.

“Angela!” the blonde nurse called again, short of breath as she tried to hold down the convulsing Camp on the bed. Angela finally finished the knot and cut off the excess, dropping the needle onto the bed and promptly forgetting about Bucky as she ran to assist the others. There were now so many personnel around Camp’s bed that he could no longer see him, just the growing puddle of blood under the gurney, and with one last look at his arm, he figured he was free to go. 

He contemplated staying to see if Camp was okay, but when he stood up and could finally see the man’s face, he decided against it. His skin was pale, his eyes searching without seeing anything, and his mouth was grimacing in a silent scream. No, this was not where he needed to be right now. He held onto the wall, the mix of blood loss, morphine, and memories of his friend’s face making him lightheaded, and followed it to the door of the hospital, pushing his way past another round of soldiers coming in and finally finding the clean night air. It was so much quieter outside that room, and for a moment he got to forget everything that happened that night. 

The cold night air blew, sharply cutting through the torn sleeve of his uniform. He needed to get cleaned up and changed, and then he could collapse into his cot and hopefully avoid any of this for at least a couple days. He rounded the side of the hospital, heading towards the barracks at a slow pace. He was hungry, but he’d wait until morning mess for food. He was too tired now to eat. As he rounded the back, he could hear the muffled voices of the nurses and physician, probably still trying to save Camp’s life. Maybe he couldn’t stomach watching them do it, but he could at least sit here so that Camp wouldn’t be alone. He kicked up an empty box and lowered himself onto it, determined to wait until his friend was stable or dead. 

The sounds of chaos continued for what felt like hours, a mix of surgical tools and unknown metallic sounds and the cacophony of voices as the medical staff snapped at each other. The pain in his arm was now just a dull ache, and with a sigh he pulled his last cigarette from his pocket, hoping it would last until everything quieted. 

As soon as he lit up, the bedlam behind the wall faded. He paused with the smoke still in his lungs, listening for any sign of the outcome. Was Camp alive? Or was he another strike on the list? He slowly exhaled, waiting for an answer and slowly accepting that he probably wasn’t going to get one. He couldn’t understand the voices, and couldn’t make sense of any of the noises he heard. He was just going to have to wait until the morning, it seemed. 

A sliver of light spilled out in front of him, only lingering long enough to make his vision sparkle as the darkness returned. The gravel crunched next to him as someone walked out, stopping abruptly as they spotted him. He looked up to see the blonde nurse from earlier, her white uniform covered in blood and her hair all knocked loose from her rolls. She didn’t look happy to see him there, but seemed to worn to care, instead just sitting down on a crate a few feet away from him and looking off into the night. The moon made her hair ghostly white, and when combined with the bloodstains, she looked like she’d fit right in at the neighborhood Halloween parade. 

“Got another one of those?” she asked, her voice cracking as if she were losing it. Bucky eyed the cigarette in his hand before grimacing.

“Nah, but you look like you could use it more than me.” he said, stretching his good arm out to her. She eyed it like a dangerous animal, her arm not moving.

“What’s the price?” she asked stiffly. Cigarettes were a commodity; surely this soldier would not give away his last one without some sort of payment.

“Nothin’. Think of it as a thank you, for trying to save Camp’s life.” he said, jerking his head towards the building. She hesitated for a moment longer before reaching out, careful not to touch him as she took it from him. He let her take one deep drag from it before asking, “Did he make it?”

She took her time in answering, unable to bring herself to look at him and instead analyzing the ground in front of her. She flicked the end of the cigarette, though there was no extra ash attached at the moment. A nervous tick. “No.” she said, her voice softer this time.

“Not your fault.” he said automatically. Instead of sadness or anger, he simply felt numb. Her eyes snapped to his, the darkness drowning out most of the green he’d noticed earlier.

“How do you know that?” she asked, making him balk. What a weird question to ask.

“You tellin’ me it  _ was _ your fault?” he challenged. If they were going to play the blame game, he was locked and ready. She didn’t like that response, sitting up straighter and inflating with anger.

“No. I did everything I was supposed to. Everything I could.” she stated, and he couldn’t help but let out a humorless laugh.

“You know, that’s twice that you’ve asked something and then been offended when I answered.” he pointed out. She opened her mouth to argue, but ended up clamping it shut, eyeing the chevrons on his sleeve. He went to pull again from the cigarette, only to remember too late that he’d given it up. The nurse deflated then, letting her gaze wander into the middle ground again. She was very pretty, he realized, even covered in gore. Not that he’d ever do anything about it. His goal was to live through this war and get back home, hopefully in one piece. 

“I’m sorry about your friend.” she spoke up, offering an olive branch in the form of his half-smoked cigarette. Maybe he wouldn’t try to bed her, but perhaps it wouldn’t be bad to make an ally outside of his platoon.

“Thanks. Me too.” he replied. She nodded, and he wondered if she counted her strikes just like he did. He hoped not, because as bad as the game was for him, it would probably be even worse for her. “What’s your name?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts. She looked at him again, spotting the rip in his sleeve and the poorly stitched bullet wound.

“Lucille.” she said shortly. Then, with more emphasis, “You should get that looked at.”

“This is  _ after _ it got looked at.” he said, shaking his head and experimentally moving his arm. Shit, still hurt. “I just think it’s crazy that they left the bullet in there.”

She perked up at that, her brows pinching together. “They left it in?”

“You seem surprised.” he said, his insides twisting with anxiety. Did he need to add another thing to his list of worries? He was quickly running out of room. She blinked, realizing that her response could incite panic, and shook her head. Her neutral facade was back in place.

“It’s unusual, but not unheard of.” she said. “Keep an eye on it, though.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he said with a mock salute. She glared at him, but didn’t dare chastise him. Maybe the sergeant rank was good for  _ something _ . She stood up, dusting her skirt off like that was going to help.

“Good night, Sergeant.” she said, turning on her heel and going inside before he could respond. He couldn’t help but grin; she certainly didn’t take any shit from any body. 

_ Lucille _ . Yea, she’d be a good ally indeed.


	2. Punishment - May 30, 2014

**May 30, 2014**

The man on the bridge.

The man on the bridge that called him Bucky.

Bucky?

Who the hell is Bucky?

And who the hell was the man on the bridge that thought that he was Bucky?

And why did Winter feel like he knew him?

“The man on the bridge,” Winter asked, his mind reeling with flashes of the memory.  _ The man on the bridge. The man on the bridge. Bucky?  _ He couldn’t quite get his mind to fixate on the man’s face, but any time he could picture it, a pang went through him, as if his body remembered something that his mind did not. “who was he?”

“You met him earlier this week on another assignment.” his commanding officer said sharply. He was annoyed; he’d already asked for the mission report twice, but Winter was more concerned with the possible breach. The man had known him. In the past century, he couldn’t remember anyone outside the Ice Box knowing him, besides the commanding officers. And Summer. 

“I knew him.” he said, hoping the commanding officer would confirm or deny this.  _ Did I? Did I know him? He knew me. The man on the bridge.  _ He felt like he knew him before the mission earlier this week. This seemed more important than the mission report.  _ Why _ did he know him?  _ How _ did he know him? And was the commanding officer not concerned about this? He held the questions in; he’d learned long ago that it was not his job to ask any more questions than necessary. But sometimes he couldn’t keep them in.  _ Clarification _ . He needed clarification.

“Your work has been a gift to mankind.” the commanding officer said. It was not an answer to his question. He was sitting on a stool now, though Winter was unsure why. It put him in a more vulnerable position. “You shaped the century. And I need you to do it one more time.”

Right. That was Winter’s purpose. He’d been told that time and again. But for some reason, it felt wrong this time. Something was off, and he wasn’t sure what. He glanced away from the commanding officer to find that the men with him shifting foot to foot, their fingers close to the triggers of the weapons they held. They were nervous about something. About him? They should be, he could take them all out if he needed. He’d start with the nearest, disarm him and terminate him. Then he could use his body to shield-

“Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos.” the commanding officer was still speaking, and something still felt wrong. Was the commanding officer mistaken? Did Winter have information to contradict his words? He couldn’t tell, his brain feeling scrambled as he tried to order his thoughts.  _ Bucky? _ “Tomorrow morning we’re going to give it a push. But, you don’t do your part, I can’t do mine. And Hydra can’t give the world the freedom it deserves.”

Winter finally looked at him. The commanding officer was giving him a fake smile, the muscles of his jaw clenching like an irritated father with a disobedient child. He was trying to placate him. Why was he trying to placate him? Didn’t he see the danger, or...or… “But I knew him.” The commanding officer needed to see that, to understand. Winter knew him. But how did he know him? There was a breach somewhere. Or maybe...the breach was in his brain. What was hiding in the recesses of his mind?

The commanding officer didn’t care. He stood with a frustrated sigh, turning to the man in the lab coat. There were always men in lab coats. “Prep him.” he said, and the mousy man with the thick glasses looked nervous. They always looked nervous. Winter paid him no mind; he felt like he was an inch away from remembering something, something important. He just didn’t know what it was. 

“But he’s been out of cryo for too long.” the man in the lab coat said. He was concerned, but Winter didn’t see why. The Ice Box was not important right now. Right now what was important was the man on the bridge. Why couldn’t he  _ remember?! _

“Then wipe him, and start all over.” the commanding officer said. Winter was barely listening, trying to delve into a part of his mind that hadn’t been accessed in...how long had it been? Was there something, before this? Was he someone, before he was the Winter Soldier? Is that how the man on the bridge knew him? He accepted the plastic into his mouth without a second thought, his mind completely focused on solving this riddle. Who was he? “And wake up his counterpart. Clearly he needs some supervision.”

The last thing he saw before pain erupted in his brain and took him from the room was one of the men in the lab coats adopting an even more frightened expression, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his clipboard. 

_ Just wake up his counterpart _ , Pierce had said. Like it was so simple. Like it was  _ easy _ to thaw an unstable super soldier armed with enhanced abilities and aggression, with a bit of confusion peppered in for good measure. Of course Pierce didn’t care. He only got to see the assets; he didn’t have to see the anger in their eyes, or hear their screams as they used the old methods to reset their brains so they would accept the words. There had to be better ways to get them to submit, but their programming was so outdated that they were afraid to even  _ try _ anything new with them for fear of failure - and the subsequent disaster. The lab techs pushed through to the other room, where the ice boxes were kept, and eyed the one that still had an occupant. She looked so young, so serene when sedated. But they knew differently. 

With a gulp, one entered the twelve digit code on the old machine, a loud hissing echoing through the room as the ice box cracked open. It was now a race against the clock; could they get her into the chair before she woke up? If they didn’t, then they would likely all die, just as the team before them had. Her body was heavy, her joints were stiff, and her skin so cold they wondered if she  _ would _ wake up this time, or if the serum they’d given her back in the 1940’s would finally give up. These were hopeless desires, of course. If Winter woke up, then so would Summer. 

The lights were bright, nearly blinding, when she opened her eyes. Her throat ached as if she’d been shouting. She took a gasping breath, her lungs feeling like they were shattering behind her ribs. Panic rose with bile in her throat, and she coughed and gasped again as she tried to take in everything at once. Men in lab coats. Machines. Clamps around her chest, her waist, her wrists and ankles. They bit into her sensitive skin when she gave them an experimental tug. Something stung her shoulder, making her jump and try to pull away. A scared looking man was injecting her with something. Somewhere, in another room, someone was screaming. He was in trouble? What was in that syringe? Who was he? Who was she?

“Buh...Bah…” she tried to say something, the word (name?) stuck just on the tip of her tongue. Someone. She was someone, but she was also supposed to find someone, save someone? But who were  _ they _ , and where were they? The other person screaming? She could feel her pulse in her ears, warmth painfully flooding into her limbs as her blood pressure rose. Why did she feel like every part of her was waking up after being in one position for a hundred years? She had to escape, had to be free of these restraints and these men who looked at her like an animal. She struggled against the leather and metal, but it held fast, and when she dug deep to summon all her strength and was only met with pain, she let out a scream in a fit of rage and fear and determination.

That’s when the pain started.

She hadn’t realized there were electrodes on her head until they started zapping her. Pain shot through her head, down her spine, into every nook and cranny of her body. She screamed again, this time in agony, as all her muscles rose into tetanus. She tried to move her arms, tried to pull them in any way, but the chair had her in a vice grip, the electricity surging over and over into her until any thought she had was gone. When it finally stopped, she collapsed against the hard metal of the chair, her throat raw from screaming and her muscles aching. She felt if she wasn’t dead, she was certainly close. One of the men in lab coats stepped forward, an old red journal with a black star open in his hands. She recognized the book, though she couldn’t exactly place it. It brought the panic all over again. With shallow breaths and pain with every movement, she tried once again to escape. Her first attempts were weak, but she could feel her body knitting itself back together. Maybe, just maybe, she could do this.

“Pursuit. Nothing.” he read from the book, his voice shaking. He held none of the confidence one needed when speaking Russian. But it didn’t matter. The tingling started at the back of her head anyway. “Extract. Twilight. Twenty-two.” She could feel shots of pain again now, but they were not from the electrodes. No, this was deeper, like her brain was trying to blow itself up. For some reason, she found herself wishing it would. “Sedated. Nine. New Year.” Her hands went numb, then her feet. The numbness spread like gloves and stockings up her arms and legs, the weight all at once familiar and terrifying. Her mind seized, her mouth open though she couldn’t muster a scream this time. “Two.” She gasped. She felt like a collar was around her neck, though she didn’t remember there being one earlier. For a brief moment she was suspended, losing all sensation and orientation. She was neither dead nor alive. “Summit.”

The lights were bright, but they helped her eyes see every detail around her. Three men, with low muscle tone and poor reflexes. Their posture suggested fear. They were not threats. The ice boxes to her left, both doors open. Winter was awake too. The commanding officer was nowhere in sight.

“Soldier?” one of the men asked, hesitant. Why would it be anyone but her? 

“Ready to comply.” she said, the words low and gravelly as she spoke them. Her throat was scratchy, suggesting injury, but she felt no pain. She never felt pain. Pain did not help them complete missions. At her words, the man whispered to another, not realizing she could hear him say  _ go get Pierce _ . She carefully stared at each of them, sizing them up. They all met her gaze, but dropped theirs immediately. Their muscles were tense, their movements so carefully casual that they appeared robotic. They were terrible liars. 

The commanding officer strode in with confidence, changing his expression from vague annoyance to the smooth facade of leadership. Next door, the screaming stopped.  _ Finally _ . The noise was grating on her sensitive ears. “Good morning, Soldier.” he said, his voice already betraying the hurry he was in. Summer just nodded. Pleasantries were of no concern to her. “I have a mission for you. Your counterpart went off book. He failed. I need you to punish him.”

He was silent after that, eyeing her. It seemed mission orders were complete. “Yes, sir.” she said shortly. The commanding officer nodded at the man in the lab coat before stepping back, going to speak with another man, this one in tactical gear, who’d appeared at the door. The lab coat slowly walked up to her, as if she were a wild animal. Perhaps she was, she didn’t know. But he had nothing to fear; she had her orders, and he was not involved. With shaking hands he loosened the clamps holding her down; her skin was red and chafed underneath, imprints of the bolts leaving angry purple dents. She did not bother rubbing them, considering they would be gone in moments. Her body moved in perfect fluidity as she stood from the chair, her muscles tightening and activating. She could feel the strength moving through her as she took the baton presented to her. 

Two more men in tactical gear dragged in Winter, depositing him onto the floor in front of her. His metal arm hung limply by his side, turned off for whatever reason. His eyes glared at her with the same cold, calculating look that they always did. He knew what was coming. He tried to stand, tried to push forward to tackle her, but the arm weighed him down and gave her enough time and leverage to send her knee into his chest. She felt his sternum crack at the blow, his breath leaving him in a rush. But it only kept him down for a moment. He reached for her ankle, grabbing it and pulling in an attempt to knock her off her feet. But she let her leg move with his force, leaning in and driving her elbow into his back.

Punish.

That is what the men in lab coats always told them. Humanity must be punished, must be forced. They did not know better, did not know what was good for them. Only Hydra knew. Hydra would be the savior the world needed. Winter would be the fist of Hydra, enforcing their rule; Summer would be the wrist, supporting and turning them where they needed to go. They were not allowed to fail. This they knew better than anything.

With one final smack across the face with her baton that left another smatter of blood across the floor, Winter finally went down and stayed down. Her chest heaved with the exertion, and she shook her head to clear her blonde hair from her vision as she looked back at the commanding officer. He nodded once; Winter’s discipline was complete. The first man in tactical gear looked at her, his stare just bordering on leering. She glared back harshly, a quiet whisper of self preservation rising like smoke in her mind, an uneasiness rippling faintly through her gut. But she stared until he dropped his eyes, because she knew that power started with intimidation. It was how Winter usually got most of his targets to talk - before he killed them. 

A man came in holding a tablet, and Summer wondered if he had her next mission, considering this one was finished. But again she heard his whispers, heard as he told the commanding officer that  _ updates to the arm are finished _ . She’d heard those words before too, she thought. They sounded familiar. Just as familiar as when the commanding officer nodded and said, “Good. Have him test it on her.” 

Winter looked up at her from the floor, his eyes focusing on her as if seeing her in a new light. He kept looking as two brutes in black hauled him to his feet, depositing him in the chair she’d inhabited an hour before. He’d already stopped bleeding, and his breaths were no longer shallow from the bruises on his rib. She watched, rooted to the spot, as the man in the lab coat did something to his arm. Winter held her eyes, his gaze going from questioning back to cold as his body knit itself back together. When the man in the lab coat stepped away, Winter pushed himself to his feet, the fingers of his metal arm flexing as he regained control. Summer shifted her feet into a defensive stance; the memory of his punishment was fresh, and now it was his turn. She knew that this was protocol, but something deep inside her always drove her to fight back. She did not know where it came from, but she grabbed it and held onto it as Winter pulled back his hand and sent his fist into her abdomen. 

Even if she’d flexed her muscles in preparation for the hit, she still felt as the air was forced from her lungs. A precise step and turn was the only thing that kept her from getting punched in the face, his arm so close that one of the plate edges sliced into her cheek. She could feel the thin dribble of blood that followed, but didn’t bother wiping it away. She was too busy avoiding the metal arm as it came for her again and again and again. And with one well placed blow to her temple, she hit the floor, the sound of Winter getting hit with the cattle prod and the scent of his singed flesh the last thing to register before the world faded to black. 

The next time, he woke screaming. But this time, his screams were not alone. When the pain faded just enough for him to catch his breath, he swivelled his head to the side, the cool metal of the chair bordering on pleasant on his temple. Next to him was another chair with a blonde woman tied into it, her chest heaving as she too recovered from whatever was happening to them. He knew her, he felt in his  _ bones _ he knew her. But her name was lost to him, as well as their past together. She held his eyes, her green ones piercing into him. Her wrists were bound to the chair but her fingers extended towards him, reaching out for him. He felt his own wrist turning, as if he could actually touch her, as if they weren’t completely bound. He knew there was no escape. 

His vision was blocked by a man in a white coat, a red journal open in front of him. The black star bore into him, mocked him, crushed him in a way he didn’t understand. The man read familiar words to him, making pain lace through him before the numbness settled in, then make the numbness spread before his mind completely locked. 

Winter and Summer stood, faces calm and blank as people handed them tactical gear and weapons. They put their knives, guns, and explosives in all their homes, their arsenal plenty and ready for every contingency. Summer pulled her mask con, covering the lower portion of her face. Winter reached for his, but the commanding officer spoke up.

“Leave it.” he said, and Winter dropped his hand. The commanding officer stepped up to them, tapping a tablet a few times before turning it to show them the screen. “This man is your mission. He is trying to stop all the beautiful work that we have done, trying to undo everything that you have been working towards for the past century. You must stop him, no matter the cost.” Winter nodded, accepting the mission. The man on the screen was blond, with sharp blue eyes and a serious face. Something told him that was not his normal expression, but he let the thought go. Why would he know the man’s facial expressions? He didn’t know him. He only knew his commanding officer, and his second in command. The commanding officer turned to Summer. 

“Make sure the mission is finished. Follow him. Run support.” he said, gesturing towards Winter with a jerk of his head. Summer curtly bowed her head, her unnerving gaze never wavering. Support would be good on a mission like this; Winter had a feeling that this target was not like their others. Something was different, though he couldn’t verbalize it in his mind. They’d met very few enemies that could best him physically, and none that could outwit them. And yet, something tickled at the back of his mind. Something about this mission made it different from the others. 

Not that it mattered.

He was the Winter Soldier.

And he had Summer right behind him.


	3. Forceps - July 9, 1943

**Forceps**

**July 9, 1943**

Sure, Bucky had never been shot before, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to go like this.

The morning after his little trip to the hospital, the wound was sore and red, but at least he could kind of move his arm again. But then it got achy as a storm started rolling in, making it feel like someone was squeezing it from the inside out. And sure, maybe it was a little swollen, but that was normal with injuries like this, right? When the first drops of rain fell, he swore he could  _ feel _ the bullet deep in his muscle, and he wondered if the Nazis had added weird exploding bullets to their list of weapons. Turns out, it wasn’t that. It was just pain from a normal bullet wound. But, like a good soldier, he carried on. At least, he tried his damndest to. 

“Sarge, you don’t look so good.” Kapinski said over his cards, trying to slyly take another from the deck while attention was turned to Bucky. Next to him, Murphy smacked his hand hard into the table to prevent the cheating - at least this time. 

“Don’t call me that.” Bucky said. He knew, technically, that he was a sergeant. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. “And I’m fine.” That was a lie, of course. For all the aches and pains he had the day prior, they were compounded when he woke up this morning. Even now, in the chilly night air, he could feel the fever sweat between his shoulder blades, and when he turned his head too fast it took a second for his eyes to catch up. He hadn’t been able to eat all day for his nausea, and since the cup of water he’d chugged this morning came right back up, he decided he should take a break from that too. 

“No, you’re not.” Kapinski persisted, this time actually meaning what he was saying instead of just trying to get the upper hand in the card game. Bucky eyed him for a moment before returning his gaze to his cards, though he found he couldn’t quite tell if he had a four of hearts or diamonds. After a few blinks, his vision cleared - diamonds. Dammit, he needed hearts. 

“None of us are ‘fine’.” he said with a shrug, ignoring the sharp jolt of pain that went all the way down to his wrist and the fact that his arm felt incredibly heavy. He traded one of his cards for another one from the deck, though the movement didn’t help his hand or the conversation.

“None of that mess, Sarge. We still got a lot of Nazis to kill.” Murphy said, clapping him on the shoulder. His sore shoulder. The one that had a (nonexploding) bullet in it. He had to grit his teeth so hard he thought his jaw was going to break, but he kept all other signs of pain hidden. It helped that the men had distracted themselves with the comment, adding vulgar remarks about the enemy and their exact plans for defeating them. Bucky smiled alongside them and choked out a laugh, the pain preventing him from forming any actual words to contribute. Something wet soaked into the sleeve of his uniform, and he was grateful for the thick coat to hide the fact that apparently his wound had decided to bleed again.

The card game resumed, and after a few minutes the pain faded to a tolerable discomfort, allowing Bucky to play once again. The rules were questionable and most of the players were less than honest, but it was a good way to pass the day until the next time they were thrown into hell. They were supposed to be back in their barracks soon, but he found that getting up and walking across the base suddenly seemed a very daunting task. The feverish feeling had dissolved somewhat, leaving him instead with chills despite the fact that his arm felt like it was full of molten lead instead of blood. He was fully in denial about the situation, thinking that he just needed to sleep it off, the same way he always did when he got a cold back in New York. Granted, back in those days, he could get some soup from the Jewish lady who lived above them and pass out in front of the fire to break his fever - neither of which were an option here on the frontlines. 

“You good, Sarge?” Murphy asked quietly when they finally stood, Bucky swaying a bit at the change in position. He cleared his throat and tried to casually stuffed his hands in his pockets (though it took a few attempts), trying to bring some warmth back to his fingertips. The ground beneath his feet seemed to be made of quicksand, and it took a lot of effort to keep his gait normal as they walked out of the mess hall. 

“Yea. Just tired. You know how it goes.” Bucky remarked, his voice sounding a little off even to his own ears. The dirt shifted, nearly pitching him, but he was lucky to be thrown in the direction of Murphy, who easily righted him.

“Maybe you should go to the infirmary.” he said, and Bucky had a mind to agree with him. Something was wrong, something besides the normal fatigue and dehydration that they’d all grown used to over the past few months. 

“Yea, yea maybe you’re right.” he said weakly. He looked up, trying to gather his bearings so he could make his way to the hospital. But...which direction was it? All the buildings looked the same, their details blurred by his unreliable vision. He started to walk to his left, and Murphy stopped him by grabbing his sleeve, gesturing the opposite way. Right, the hospital was right. Maybe. All the buildings were melting into a similar shade of black, and right before he passed out Bucky had the thought that maybe the buildings weren’t the ones changing. 

Murphy was glad that he was a man that could stay cool under pressure, cause his superior officer passing out right in front of him was  _ definitely _ a high pressure situation. Well, medium pressure perhaps. The time spent on the frontlines tended to skew the scale. Luckily another soldier from a different platoon spotted them as Bucky went down, and rushed to help as Murphy manhandled him up, trying to keep him from splattering into the mud. A dark spot was quickly growing on the sleeve of his jacket, and when he went to pull the Sergeant’s arm over his shoulders, something felt wrong in the skin and muscle. From there, it was an awkward limp and carry to get Bucky down the row and through the door of the infirmary. 

The nurses all looked up as they entered, pausing their tendings to the slightly more permanent residents of the hospital. Then one nurse, her brown hair escaping from her pins, stood up ramrod straight, her eyes as big as saucers as she took them in.

“Oh God,” she squeaked, her face draining of color. “Oh God, that’s my patient from the other night.”

More silence as no one moved, Murphy shifting the Sergeant’s weight so that he could hoist him up a little higher. “So...should I put him on a bed or…” 

The nurse was still shocked, poor thing looking like she’d seen a ghost. Another nurse, this one blonde, sharply said, “Angela!” 

“Oh! Oh, yes, yes, put him here.” Angela snapped out of it, frantically going to an empty cot and preparing it for a new occupant. They moved Bucky there and tried to make him at least look comfortable, even if his forehead was beaded with sweat and his face was grimacing in his unconscious state. Angela started pulling off his jacket with shaking hands, revealing the large, dark spot on his uniform. Heat seemed to be radiating off of him, and when she managed to cut along the length of his sleeve and expose the wound, they all had to take a step back and cover their noses at the rank smell that escaped. Without thinking, she grabbed a cloth and pressed it to the wound, trying not to think about how boggy his skin felt.

“Holy fuck.” Murphy stated, more surprised than he cared to admit. Next to him, the private was looking a little green around the gills. 

“Go ahead. I’ve got this.” Angela said, with none of the confidence to support her statement. She herself was a different shade of green for a moment like this, but she was a nurse, and she was going to do her best. The soldiers nodded, making their escape quick as the physician finally joined her. He took one look at Bucky’s arm before shrugging. 

“Clean the wound. Give him one dose of penicillin. He should be fine after that.” he said, making a note on a clipboard and sliding it into the holder at the foot of the cot.

“But Dr. Becker,” Angela said, trying to follow him and remembering that she was holding pressure on the arm. She looked around nervously, finding only Lucille watching as the physician ignored her call and promptly left the building to go get the supper he was so concerned about. 

The situation did not sit well with Lucille at all. She’d worked with more physicians than she could count, and could usually put them into categories. There were the old men with old ways, the ones who suggested bloodletting a time or two in lieu of actual treatment. There were the young ones, fresh out of med school with all the knowledge and ideas and none of the practice with living, breathing humans. And there were the ones in between, who were burnt out, tired of war, and convinced that no one was going to make it out alive. She’d worked with all these, seen as patients got better and even more patients died under their care. The nurses always had to be there to clean up the mess. 

But none got as messy as Dr. Becker. She’d just started working with him over the past few weeks, but something was off. She’d never seen a doctor that would ignore blatant signs of things (at least, while they were sober), or who seemed to actively choose neglect for treatment. But any time any of them asked about it, he would spout off something about  _ the human body’s inherent sturdiness _ or  _ supplies are limited and we must do only what we can _ , often finishing the borderline lecture with _ you’d do well to remember your place, nurse. _

That was one thing almost all the physicians had in common.  _ Remember your place, nurse _ . 

Well she knew who she was - yes, she was a nurse, and that meant that she’d gone through training and trial by fire to  _ save _ people, not watch them die when they could live. And she was tired - so tired - of soldiers dying. This was the last straw. She went over to Angela, the younger girl jumping as she put her hand on her arm. God, she reminded Lu so much of how she used to be - before the War, of course, and even then in the early days. She stammered for a moment before Lu silenced her with a look, mimicking taking a deep breath so that the girl followed.

“What did he say?” she asked, wanting to be sure of her facts before going forward. Maybe she’d misheard. Maybe Dr. Becker wasn’t as bad as she thought.

“You have to help me, Lucille, this wound is terrible and I’m afraid that one dose of penicillin isn’t going to be enough and-” the girl was close to hysterics, so Lu grabbed her arm a little tighter, distracting her before she broke down. Yep, this was exactly as bad as she thought.

“Let me see it,” she said quietly, trying not to draw attention to them. She looked down at the patient, noticing it was the sergeant she’d seen the other night - the one who shared his last cigarette with her. How the hell was he back here so fast? The answer, of course, came to her when Angela removed the compress, showing his grossly infected wound. 

“The bullet’s still in there. Dr. Becker told me to leave it. But I think that’s what’s causing the infection.” Angela said quietly, finally catching on that they didn’t want the other nurses to hear them. Sure, they all had a silent agreement of sisterhood, but when it came down to it, they couldn’t risk anyone overhearing them say anything negative about the physician - or if they were planning to go against physician orders. 

“Your instincts are right.” Lu whispered, trying to give the girl at least a little boost of morale. She would be a great nurse, if she could just get her damn nerves under control. But she was barely nineteen, fresh out of training and scared to be away from home. Lu looked around once more, noticing that the other nurses on their shift were busy with their patients. She stepped back, wiping her hands on her skirt. “Just follow the doctor’s instructions, Angie. Clean the wound and give him one dose of antibiotics. I’m sure he has his reasons.”

“What?” Angela said, confusion evident on her face. Lu widened her eyes and tilted her head, hoping the look would get her point across. Angela was new, they could easily shuffle her to the worst places in the War. Lu had some tenure, she could fight back if she needed. She had to protect her, the way the girls had back when she first started.

“I’ll take care of it.” she said, her voice so quiet she basically just mouthed the words. Angela paused, her emotions a mix of gratitude and bewilderment. This  _ for sure _ wasn’t protocol. She nodded, looking down at the still-unconscious sergeant before gathering her supplies to start an IV and clean the wound as best as she could. Lu gave her one last conspiratory glance before going back to her own patients. 

Dr. Becker returned just as she finished cleaning and bandaging the wound, eyeing her like a hawk as she carefully measured out one dose of the penicillin and delivered it, returning the bottle to its cabinet after the task was finished. Perhaps it was just paranoia, but Angela felt like the doctor was keeping a closer-than-usual eye on her for the rest of the night. She tried not to make any contact with him, instead keeping her head down and doing her work, glancing once in a while at Lu to see if she needed to be worried. But the other woman was cool as a cucumber, writing in charts and checking on patients like she wasn’t about to do...something. Against physician orders. 

The clock finally ticked eleven, and she went around and closed all the curtains around the cots, giving the soldiers some privacy to sleep. She gathered her things with the other nurses and Dr. Becker, the latter holding the door as they exited the hospital to head back to the barracks. She walked extra quickly, only noticing as she entered the room full of bunks that Lucille was not right behind her like she thought. She just hoped Dr. Becker hadn’t noticed too. 

Back in the hospital, Lu made a show of going through her last rounds, slowly checking all the vitals and making sure the men were comfortable. It was easy to hide from the night charge nurse as she reviewed the day documents, the curtains from the cots giving her ample coverage. She waited until the second nurse came in and the two struck up a gentle conversation before slipping through the curtains surrounding the sergeant’s cot.

He’d transitioned from unconsciousness to a fitful sleep, his brows pinching every time his arm moved. He was mumbling in his sleep, and though she couldn’t exactly make out what he was saying, she could feel the underlying distress. Only at one point could she make out a phrase, just because she’d heard all the men say it so many times -  _ Fuck off, Hitler.  _ The gauze on his arm was already soaked through, the white bandage inked with dark red and gold as the wound seeped underneath it. Red lines spiderwebbed out from under it, telling of how strong the infection was. Why would Dr. Becker only allow one dose of antibiotics? And why, when the bullet was  _ obviously _ the source of the infection, would he order Angela to leave it in?

The scalpel she’d swiped earlier clinked against the bottle of antibiotic infusion she’d also stuffed in her pocket, forcing her to stop and listen for the nurses at the station. Luckily, they were still chatting to each other, not suspecting a rogue nurse in their midst. She saw the chain of his dogtags under his collar and tried to pull them out, hoping to find his name. She was a little unlucky then as the man opened his eyes, blearily taking her in. “Oh hey, Doc. Normally I wanna be awake for that.” he murmured, and though his voice was quiet she still shushed him gently.

“Not a doctor, Sergeant. Just trying to learn your name.” she said softly, holding her finger to her lips in hopes that he got the message, his dogtags finally falling out. She missed most of the information, her eyes zeroing in on the first line.  _ Barnes _ . He let out a snort. 

“I’m not a real Sergeant, Doc.” he replied. She didn’t have time to think about whether he was an imposter or just suffering from imposter syndrome. That would be a question for when he was lucid.

“Barnes it is then.” she whispered, moving closer to him. Even delirious with fever, he had the audacity to turn and give her a flirty smile. 

“That’s my last name. You want it?” he said. She shot him a glare, but he still eyed her with that damn smile. His voice was starting to return to a normal volume, which she did  _ not _ need right now. She held her finger to her lips again, and this time he got it, his expressions sobering. “Am I dying?” he whispered, so quiet she wouldn’t have heard it if the rest of the soldiers hadn’t been asleep. 

“Not if I can help it.” she whispered back. He would certainly not be offering her his last name after what she was about to do. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a clean towel and putting it near his mouth. He was confused for a moment until she clacked her teeth at him, implying he should bite it. Then he grew concerned, following her directions with a suspicious expression. “This is going to hurt. But I need you to stay quiet.”

He didn’t have all the information; he didn’t know how bad the infection was, didn’t know that the physician wasn’t allowing enough medication to save his life. But he bit the towel anyways, his eyes suddenly a little more clear. She cut away his bandages, using what clean bandage was left to wipe the surface of the wound before pulling out her scalpel and forceps. He eyed them warily, his breaths coming a little faster and shorter, but when she held them up and raised her eyebrows in question, he nodded. He took one look at his arm as she moved the scalpel towards it, but chickened out when it touched his skin, instead choosing to look at her eyes as she worked. He let out one quiet groan as the scalpel bit into his skin, immediately smothering it as her intense gaze flicked up to his for a moment. She didn’t waste time though, dropping the scalpel onto his sheet once the initial incision was made and pulling out the forceps.

If Bucky thought the incision was painful, he wasn’t ready for the forceps. She pushed them into the wound with the confidence of someone who’d done it a hundred times before, but that didn’t stop the deep pressure and the sharp, electrical ache shooting all around his shoulder. He felt the moment the touched the bullet, pain flying in the same way he imagined the current going when he jumped a car battery. He gripped his sheet tightly and gritted his teeth on the towel, staying silent except for the quick breaths that he took in whenever his head started to swim. A second later, she pulled the bullet out, and if he was honest he was relieved in the same way as when he vomited after drinking too much - still suffering, but markedly better. 

His arm was bleeding freely now, and she was barely able to cover it before it dripped onto the bed. That was okay; she didn’t need to pack it, that job would be reserved for the two ladies sitting at the desk. She worked even faster then, wrapping his arm despite his other grunts of pain at the rough movements. She got her last equipment from her pocket - a clean syringe and the antibiotics - and quickly pulled a dose. Even in her hurry, she made sure there was no bubbles in the syringe, not wanting to do all this just for Barnes to die of an embolism. The gauze was already starting to color as she injected another round of the antibiotics, her time running short. Without thinking, she dropped the bullet into her pocket before gathering everything together, figuring she could dispose of them later. All that was left was to pack it all up, so she reached for the towel, pausing just as her fingers touched it. 

“I’m going to take this out now, and as soon as I’m out of the curtain, yell for the nurses, okay? But you have to wait until I’m out.” she said. If he called too early, her plan would be up in smoke. She held onto the towel until he nodded in agreement, then gently removed it, not wincing as his jaw cracked in its new freedom. An ache in her cheeks told her she’d been clenching her teeth too. All the equipment was quickly wrapped up in the cloth; it would be easier to hide it that way. She went to the break in the curtains, turning and taking one last look at him. Perhaps he was a  _ little _ handsome, now that she knew he wasn’t on death’s door. “Get better, Barnes.” she ordered, not waiting for a reply before ducking out of the curtain. When she was two cots down, he called for the nurses, finally letting out some of the panic and pain that he’d been pushing down the entire time Lu had been working. When the two women hurried across the floor and got to his cot, she made her move, sneaking quietly towards the door and letting herself out. 

Once out in the cold night air, she felt she could finally breathe. She’d done all she could for Barnes, and she kept Angela from any culpability. She’d had a lot of losses on her conscience, but at least he was not going to be one of them. Maybe. Hopefully.

She’d done her part. It was all up to him now. 


	4. Wrong - May 31, 2014

**Chapter 4: Wrong**

**May 31, 2014**

“You know me.” the man said. And he was right, even if Winter didn’t want to admit it, even if he couldn’t remember anything about him. The man was so sure. It made Winter nervous.

“No I  _ don’t _ !” he yelled, sending his fist into him. The man shook him to his core. He went against the commanding officer, he went against Hydra. He was lying, he had to be lying...but Winter knew when people lied. And this man was speaking truth.

“Bucky,” he said, the name sending a jolt through his brain.  _ Bucky _ . Who the hell was Bucky? Why did Winter feel like he knew that name? “You’ve known me your whole life.”

Did Winter have a life before this? There was a blank darkness in the back of his mind, a constant emptiness. Was something supposed to be there? He backhanded the man, trying to stop him from sewing whatever seeds that were sprouting dissent in his mind. The man didn’t move to block him, or to attack him again. The helicarrier was falling apart around them; soon, one or both of them would be dead. Either way, his mission would be over. 

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.” he said, righting himself. The name sent a jolt through him. No it wasn’t, it  _ wasn’t _ . It was Soldat, it was Asset, it was Winter.

“Shut up!” he said, hitting him hard enough that the man was thrown to the ground. Winter felt as shaky as the ground beneath him. He felt like a long-caged animal, suspicious of a cracked door. He had not known kindness in his memory; if the men in lab coats ever showed mercy, it was to lower his guard. He would not - could not - lower it again. Ever.

The man stumbled to his feet, obviously suffering from the wounds inflicted by Winter. Why couldn’t he just stay down? Why wouldn’t he fucking give  _ up _ ? “I’m not gonna fight you.” he said, dropping his shield. Winter waited for the clang of it hitting the ground, but it fell through a space in the floor with nothing but a quiet  _ woosh _ . 

“You’re my friend.” 

_ Friend _ . He said it so casually, so easily, this man. The man who talked like they were familiar. The enemy who’d saved him from being crushed by the metal pillar as the helicarrier went down. Who was he? Winter had the faintest feeling that he’d met him before, but when he tried to reach for the memory he got nothing but a dull ache in the back of his head. But he couldn’t shake that clench in his gut, the one that said that something was off about this op. He could feel the tendrils of control slipping from his mind, bits and pieces fracturing and falling away revealing flashes of another man, another life. It was unnerving, and his stomach spasmed again. He tried to grip onto the control, prevent it from where it was quickly slipping away.

“You’re my  _ mission _ .” he said, slamming his fist into the man’s face again and again despite the ache from the healing break in his arm. A sharp pain stabbed him in the chest, but he quickly realizes that it wasn’t from a knife - it was something internal. He thought the man was somehow doing it, but it was clear that he was barely holding onto consciousness. Whatever this pain was, it was his body speaking while his mind was mute. He gasped, the pain still stuck behind his sternum. No matter how fast or deep he breathed, it didn’t loosen. It felt like he was drowning.

“Then finish it.” the man said. His body went limp, one eye swollen shut. The other still stared at him, unnervingly confident. He was no longer fighting back. Easy. So easy. Winter tightened his hand into a fist, ready to do as the man said. But something made him hesitate. “Cause I’m with you til the end of the line.”

_ Til the end of the line. _

_ Til the end of the line. _

Winter had heard that before. Where had he heard that before? It wasn’t from the men in lab coats. It wasn’t from the commanding officer. It wasn’t from Summer. Would Summer know? She was usually able to fill in the gaps where knowledge was concerned. Her training was designed to complement his. The helicarrier groaned as the structural support lost its integrity. His advanced senses felt every shift in the glass and the metal, telling of how close it was to failing. They were out of time. It was, as the man said, the end of the line. 

He knew him.

The glass broke underneath them as the helicarrier tilted to its side, making a fast move towards the Potomac. Winter easily grabbed hold of a beam with his metal arm, keeping himself in the air. The man fell, not moving in any way to protect himself from the fall. He crashed into the water like a cannonball, bringing back another clip of a memory. For a split second he saw sunshine, and blue water, and a man in red shorts. But then the vision was gone, and all he saw was the man sinking. A heartbeat later, Winter dove into the water, not even flinching at the cold as he used the weight of his metal arm to sink faster. Obviously the man was also enhanced, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to keep up with Winter in the fight. But very few enhancements allowed survival of drowning. In fact, Winter only knew two people on this earth who could - and neither he nor Summer were one of them. 

He dragged the man out of the water, depositing him on the shore of the river. By his count, he had three bullet wounds and a stab wound, not to mention the fractures he’d sustained from the fall. He was still breathing, but he would need medical attention soon. Winter was confident he would get it. He glanced up at a nearby building, knowing Summer would be there, watching. He could see the sun glinting off the yellow of her hair. He nodded in her direction, and a blink later, she was gone. She’d meet him down here, at their extraction point. They were supposed to make sure this man was dead, but Winter knew, somewhere in his broken brain, that he needed to stay alive. 

Something was knocked loose, he’d known that as soon as he woke from his brief stint of unconsciousness thanks to the man. Winter didn’t know what was right anymore, but he knew something about this mission was wrong. Something - someone - was compromised. It might be him. It might be Summer. It might be the commanding officer. Either way, he knew that the best course of action was a tactical retreat. He needed information, and he needed to gather it himself, lest it be contaminated. 

But his biggest problem was going to be Summer.

He needed her to simply follow his orders, as she’d done this entire time. But there was the danger of her balking. After all, he may have had his mission, but she also had hers. He had failed. She was supposed to make sure he didn’t. But she didn’t know that the mission was compromised. He needed her to see that, because if he was going to get to the bottom of this - who the man was, where the misinformation was, what was making him feel so goddamn  _ wrong _ \- then he was going to need her help. 

“Mission report?” she asked in Russian, appearing from behind a tree. She held her weapon in an at-ease position, but he could see the set in her shoulders. She was ready at any moment. 

“Change in mission. We need reconnaissance.” he said shortly. He moved to walk past her, but her gun moved up, the muzzle resting against the back of his neck as he stopped.

“Mission report.” she said again. He heard the gentle click as her finger settled on the trigger. He knew her mission, because he had been his on multiple occasions as well: if compromised, eliminate. 

“Something is dirty.” he said. It was the best way he could describe what his gut was saying to him. “The man on the helicarrier. He knew me.”

“How?” she said, digging the muzzle in further. He gritted his teeth and made an effort to relax his muscles. He had to keep everything neutral, or Summer would read his intentions like a book. He needed to neutralize her, just enough to alter his plan. 

“I don’t know.” he said honestly. Before she could ask another question, he moved, turning and shoving the muzzle of the gun aside so that the bullets she shot ended up in the dirt. She quickly discarded it, pulling a knife from her belt and swinging it towards him. He blocked the attack easily with his metal arm, but was slower with her second knife, grunting as the blade sank into his injured arm.  _ Pain _ . When was the last time he’d really, truly felt pain? He elected to ignore it, and with a feat of strength he knew would overpower her, he shoved her hands away and slammed her head into a nearby tree. She dropped like a sack of potatoes ( _ a sack of potatoes? How did he knew what it was like to drop that? _ ), the blonde of her hair dyed red with blood. 

_ Sometimes I think a knock on the head would do you good. _

Winter snapped around, looking for the source of the voice, but they were still alone in the woods. He could feel how wide his eyes were, his heart thumping against his ribs. The high pulse rate made the arm ache more. He needed to move,  _ now _ . But when he looked down to Summer, something made him hesitate. Again. 

Data pointed to the fact that he’d been someone before Hydra, though he did not know who that man was. Logically, that meant Summer had been someone too. Had they known each other, before Hydra? As he analyzed her unconscious face, he felt a tug in his stomach, one that told him there was a chance, however slight, that she was more than just the wrist of Hydra. His initial plan had been to leave her, but he couldn’t. It was time for him to walk away, and he wasn’t going to leave her behind. The thought made his stomach clench again; he  _ couldn’t _ leave her behind.

Summer awoke to the sounds of birds and wind. It was not her typical waking. There was no feeling of burning from the inside out, no bites of needles as the men in lab coats punched her like a pin cushion.  _ A pin cushion _ ? When was the last time she’d thought about a pin cushion? She blearily opened her eyes, her entire skull aching with the pain of trauma. Wait. Pain?

Winter appeared in front of her, his position defensive as he waited for her to move. When had he ever waited for her? Especially on a mission. What of the mission?

“Mission report?” she said. Her voice was not scratchy like usual. Something felt different.  _ She  _ felt different. But she knew that they had to complete their mission: kill the blond man, make sure the helicarriers stayed in the air. She shot to her feet, looking up at the sky; it was noticeably empty. She turned back to Winter. “We failed.”

“Mission is compromised.” he said. He spoke in English, his voice slightly higher than it was when he spoke Russian. Why was he speaking in English? That was not the important question.

“What’s next?” she asked, switching languages as well. She could see the change in his posture; they were no longer on the offensive. She switched seamlessly into the defensive position, moving just slightly so as to view the entire area that Winter could not see. She knew he would be looking over her shoulder. There were no visible threats, but that did not mean they were safe.

“Recon. We need to move. Lay low.” he said, his statements short and efficient. She nodded, noticing how he was holding his right arm. Injury. He would need protection on that side, and she moved to cover it. 

“Safe house?” she asked. She had more knowledge of the landscape, they’d drilled the map into her mind. Winter had known their enemy. He shook his head. 

“Eyes everywhere.” he replied as they started walking through the brush. She nodded again. They would have to find a different place, one where no one could find them while they gathered information. She did not need to know how Winter knew the mission was compromised. She only needed to know their next steps. Her mission was to make sure he succeeded, and to stop him if he did not. She would still follow that mission if he proved inadequate. But something told her that they did not hold all the cards right now, and if there was one thing she knew, they never went into a mission if they did not have an out. 

They kept to the outskirts, eventually finding an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the district. He could feel the cold bite of the wind as it passed through his wet clothing, something he’d never felt before - or at least, never noticed before. She could see his skin rising against the cold, and noticed the odd small jerks as the chill ran down his spine. It confused her; they’d spent over a week in the Russian tundra with no problems, why would the cold bother him now? His eyes glanced around the deserted street, watching for problems. She surveyed the opposite area and found it empty as well. They ducked into the empty warehouse, the rusty door painfully loud in the silence.

“Disguises.” he said. Previously, the word would have been a sharp order, but something had changed. She wasn’t even sure if he heard it as well. She still gave him a curt nod, leaving him in the warehouse to find what they needed. Her head still ached, which was annoying, but it was by far not the worst thing she’d ever been through. She had a brief glimpse of the machine, the muscles between her shoulder blades involuntarily tightening as she remembered the agony it inflicted. If they were compromised…

No. She stopped that thought before it could take hold. Just because the mission was compromised didn’t mean that Hydra was. But she couldn’t stop the idea from sinking into the back of her mind, just waiting to jump to the front again. They’d wandered from their handlers once before, and had been punished heavily because of it. She stopped walking, putting a hand to the brick building next to her to steady herself. The memory of the punishment was so clear, so vivid, that she actually felt the ghost of it over her whole body. Had they ever really healed from it?

Winter said they needed recon. The commanding officer told her to follow Winter. So she would. 

First she lifted a hat as she walked by a stand, waiting until she was well past it to put it on her head. The small prickle of pain told her she’d covered the bloody sore spot on the back of her head. Perhaps that was why everything felt a little off; a traumatic brain injury would shift her perception of reality until it healed. She almost had to stop again at that thought; how did she know the words  _ traumatic brain injury _ ? 

She passed another stand and took another hat. That one would be for Winter. They would need to cover their faces. Regular clothing would be more difficult, but not trouble. She simply found the busiest but most nondescript place, making her movements methodical and casual as she picked up plain things for them. A few people glanced her way, eyeing her tactical gear. She would need to go now, or risk being found. 

She noticed people going into rooms at the back with their armfulls of clothes. Though she couldn’t remember the word, part of her knew that the point of the rooms were to try on the clothing. She ducked into an empty room and locked the door behind her, quickly stripping herself of her black kevlar clothing and pulling on the jeans, t-shirt, and jacket she’d grabbed. She would keep her boots and her weapons, though they were significantly more difficult to hide. She quickly folded the extra clothes and tucked them away in the jacket, simply giving the illusion that she was pregnant. When she assessed the disguise in the mirror, she had an odd feeling, though she couldn’t name it. She shook her head and, without another glance, climbed into the ceiling and worked her way out of the building. 

She changed her walk and her path as she went back to the warehouse, keeping her head low but her eyes sharp. A billboard appeared in the distance as she turned a different corner, a few blocks away from their home base. And on that billboard, the man from the mission stared at her. She slowed, taking in all the information. Would this tell her who he was? It said his name was  _ Captain America _ . It gave no other information, besides where they could find more - a whole exhibit, at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum. 

Too easy.

Winter had already stripped of his wet clothes when she returned, his skin dry and his hair almost there. She didn’t bat an eye at his nudity; a body was a body. It was a tool. An asset. She unzipped the soft jacket, handing him the clothes she got. “I know where we can get recon about the man.” she said as he put them on, transforming from the soldier to the spy. He jerked his head once, telling her to continue. “The museum. Air and Space.”

“The museum?” he asked. She nodded. She could see the wheels turning in his head, going through all the logistics just as she had on her walk back. They would have to wait a couple days due to the coverage of the incident on the Potomac; they’d seen video of it on screens as they passed to this place. They would have to go at the right time, with the right amount of people present - enough that they could blend in, but not too many so they got recognized. Summer’s face was not in the videos, but they could see Winter from afar. It was worth the risk for the amount of information they could get. They were just going to have to be smart about it.

Time passed slowly when they weren’t in the ice boxes. A thousand times, Summer wondered if she should leave Winter and return to their handlers, and a thousand and one looks at his face told her that it was wiser to stay with him. After all, it was dangerous to leave - but they hadn’t come looking. Yet. The explosion of the helicarrier had been enormous, and she thought they might believe Winter was eliminated. And if Winter was gone, perhaps Summer could be gone as well. They were rarely apart; a piece of her wondered if they assumed she’d been on that helicarrier with him. Maybe they assumed both of them were eliminated. 

New mission day was cloudy and cool, but the clouds weren’t heavy enough to threaten rain. The museum was busy, and the line out front for people waiting to get in at their assigned time was a mile long. They bypassed it entirely, easily breaking in through an employee-only entrance and joining the crowd. They eyed the people in the exhibits, seeing kids running around to interact with all the displays. Parents stayed close by, holding hands and yelling for their children to behave. Teenagers on a school trip traveled in pods, caring more about each other than what was in front of them. Summer moved closer to Winter, not for safety or affection, but to play the part. He easily fit himself next to her in the practiced way they’d used for...ever? 

They followed the signs for the  _ Captain America _ exhibit, which seemed to be one of the more popular areas of the museum. A dark arch signalled their entrance into it, the man from their mission emblazoned on one wall in an artistic rendering that did not quite seem to match the real thing. Turns out, Captain America was in fact Steve Rogers. He had a name, unlike Summer and Winter. Steve Rogers was born in Brooklyn. Steve Rogers was an orphan. Steve Rogers underwent experimentation to become the super soldier. Winter bristled at that point in the story, but he said nothing. 

Then, they reached the Hall of the Howling Commandos. And came face to face with Winter himself.

Well, it wasn’t  _ exactly _ himself. This Winter was younger, with shorter hair and less muscle mass. Summer pulled him to a stop, her eyes going back and forth between the black and white glass retrospective that had his face on it. Winter stared at it for a long time, staring at the picture and also his distorted reflection in the black stone. 

“James Buchanan Barnes.” she read quietly, something tickling the back of her mind. Winter’s mouth was parted, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t verbalize it. Finally, he spoke.   


“That’s what he called me. Or, that’s what he said my name was.” he said.

“Who?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

“The man from the mission. Steve.” he responded. Again, something pulled at her, like there was something blocked in her brain. It angered her. Winter’s eyes greedily took in the words etched on the stone. It told how this James Buchanan Barnes grew up with Steve Rogers, how he joined the Army. Winter paled as he read about James Buchanan Barnes being taken by Hydra, and how Steve Rogers saved him and the rest of the 107th. How he was one of two Commandos to lose their lives. He fell from a train. As soon as he read the words, he  _ remembered _ the train.

“James Buchanan Barnes.” Summer said again, the name feeling foreign on her tongue.

“Bucky.” he said, pointing to the name down at the bottom. “That’s what he originally called me. Bucky.”

“Are you Bucky?” she asked. It seemed surreal, this idea that they had a life before Summer and Winter. This display said James Buchanan Barnes died in 1945. But here he was, standing right next to her.

“I don’t know.” he said. The thought seemed to agitate him, and he turned away from the glass. Summer followed, increasing her strides to keep up and nearly running into him as he stopped in front of the next retrospective.

A blonde woman stared at them, her curls perfect and a small smile on her face. And suddenly, Summer understood exactly what Winter had gone through just moments before. 

“Lucille Peters.” Winter said, making a shudder go down her spine. Something in her chest cracked as he said the name, but she still couldn’t reconcile the picture of the woman in front of her with her own face in the glass. This couldn’t be her. She wasn’t a woman, she was a soldier. Her name was not Lucille. It was Summer.

_ One of few nurses to serve in both the Navy and the Army, Lucille “Doc” Peters grew up in a small town in Virginia -  _ that couldn’t be right, Summer had never been to Virginia.

_ She was just eighteen when the events at Pearl Harbor happened, turning her from a fresh faced trainee to a decorated trauma nurse -  _ she was not a nurse. She didn’t save people. She killed people. 

_ Out of love for her country and her comrade in arms James “Bucky” Barnes, Doc decided to join Steve Rogers in his quest to destroy Hydra  _ \- Summer wouldn’t destroy Hydra. She  _ was _ Hydra. 

_ When Bucky fell from the train, she went to recover him while the rest of the Commandos completed their mission. However, like Barnes, she never returned. A snow storm slowed search and rescue efforts, and she was declared dead three months later when the ice thawed. _

But she wasn’t dead. She was standing right here.

She looked to Winter, who was trying to make sense of this all as well. The woman who looked like her had followed the man that looked like him, in an effort to save him. 

Bucky and Doc were dead. And yet…

Numbness settled over them both, their brains refusing to process any more of this. Their world, which had received a giant crack with the arrival of Steve Rogers, was slowly crumbling to pieces.

The world thought them dead.

Hydra always said they’d saved them.  _ Without us, you’d be nothing _ , they’d told them. Over and over, they were told that Hydra was the only one there for them, the only reason they were alive, the only ones who cared for them. They owed Hydra a debt, a debt so heavy that they could not repay it. Not in their natural lives.

Summer thought of their strength, and senses, and healing. Their lives weren’t natural, the scientists had seen to that. She thought of Lucille Peters and James Barnes, both missing in action, falling to their deaths in the snow. These two people, never seen again, who looked just like them. These two people, who’d been known, and loved, and missed. 

One thing became abundantly clear, and she saw the moment as Winter reached the same conclusion.

Hydra...had lied.


	5. Conspiracy - July 10, 1943

**Chapter 5: Conspiracy**

**July 10, 1943**

Bucky assumed, given the heat, the bodily restriction, and things appearing in his vision that may or may not be real, that he’d finally been sent to Hell.

His arm was on fire, and the pain laced through his entire body while something else electrocuted his brain over and over. He felt like he was floating, or drowning, or being crushed to death like the people in the Salem Witch Trials. He couldn’t catch his breath, at least not enough to talk to his father, who kept coming and telling him, “Not yet, kid. You’ve got another fight yet.” His dad used to always say that, back in his early boxing days. But it had been a long time since he’d boxed at a YMCA. When even was his last fight there? It didn’t matter. Dad had been dead a long time. And even in his delirium, Bucky knew that seeing him was not a good sign. 

Then, somewhere in the twilight of his life, Bucky met an angel. 

She descended upon him, gently caressing his chest, soothing the heat trapped behind his rapidly beating heart. The white nurse’s hat was her halo, her blonde curls shining light from beyond the pearly gates. She was either there to save him for another day in the trenches, or take him down the streets paved with gold. Either way, she was going to make sure he wasn’t stuck in fire and brimstone.

He knew he spoke to her, though he didn’t know exactly what he said. He hoped it was good. Then, if he lived, maybe she would talk to him again. Maybe when he wasn’t on his deathbed. Something in him told him that he knew her, that he could trust her. After all, she was honest by telling him that whatever was about to happen was going to hurt. And that warning was one hundred percent truthful. Then she told him to yell for help, which was an easy sell when his guardian angel left him so quickly, abandoning him to his pain. The people who came to help him were still angels, but not of the same caliber. They shimmered instead of shone, and didn’t take him to heaven or hell. They just asked him questions he didn’t know the answer to, and sent him to the gentle embrace of darkness. 

He didn’t know what time it was when the fever finally broke, but he knew from the dull ache in his arm and the moans of the actually dying soldiers around him that he was still alive and kicking. Well, alive, at the bare minimum. 

“Oh, you’re awake!” someone squeaked as soon as his eyes were open. He hastily shut them, grimacing at both the light and the noise. He heard footsteps patter away, and he willed himself to go back to sleep, hoping he wouldn’t have to deal with the world for just a little longer. But luck was no longer on his side as the footsteps returned, joined by even more footsteps.

“Ah, Sergeant Barnes. You’re looking swell this afternoon.” the doctor said. Something in his voice made Bucky’s stomach turn. He opened one eye to try and limit the light bearing down on his soul, but it still felt like he got shot all over again, this time in the eye. The doctor - Becker, his badge said - looked rather smug.

“Don’t feel swell.” he replied. His throat felt dry and rusty, and he soon dissolved into a fit of coughing that made his arm feel like it was about to fall off. The mousy nurse, the poor girl who’d stitched his arm up at some point in the past helped him sit up and sip some water. Was it today? Yesterday? Last week? Last month? How much time had he’d been stuck in purgatory? 

“Well you’re on the tail end of a miraculous recovery.” Dr. Becker said. Bucky couldn’t decide if the man was hiding something behind his words, or if his voice just did that on its own. “We weren’t sure if you were going to make it through the night.”

“We weren’t?” the young nurse asked, dropping her confused look and her eyes as Dr. Becker gave a sharp glance her way. He looked back to Bucky with a grin.

“But I had a feeling you were cut from a stronger cloth.” he continued, as if there weren’t a concerning interruption of his monologue. He nodded, patting Bucky on the leg. “Now we just have to see how far that dose of penicillin gets us.”

“Well it helps that the bullet’s not there anymore.” Bucky remarked, and the immediate change in the air told him he’d said something wrong. 

“I know the Nazi’s have developed some strange technology, Sergeant, but I don’t think dissolving bullets are one of them.” Dr. Becker said. Behind him, the nurse ( _ dammit, what was her name _ ) looked scared, her wide eyes flitting back and forth between Bucky and the doctor. Then, a different look, this one to the side. Bucky followed her eyes and saw, across the hospital, his guardian angel, cleaning someone else’s wound and pretending she wasn’t eavesdropping. Her hands were moving very slowly, as if she were waiting to hear what he was going to say next. Had he just imagined the whole thing? Or hallucinated it? After all, she was technically the last nurse he’d seen, even if it had been outside the hospital. He cleared his throat, then gave a few more coughs just to buy himself some time. His infection-addled brain was having trouble connecting the dots, but he thought he had a feeling what was going on here.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” he said, gesturing to his head with his good hand. He had the best excuse. “Fever.” 

The doctor seemed to accept that answer, giving him a small smile. “Ah, yes. Hallucinations are common with the degree of fever that you experienced. Very well, Sergeant, it’s good to see you back with both feet on this side of the grave.” With that, he hung the clipboard back at the foot of the bed and turned to go tend to his other patients. If, in fact, that was what he was doing. 

“So you’re feeling better, Sergeant?” the young nurse asked quietly, as if she didn’t quite believe what was happening.

“About as good as can be expected I suppose.” Bucky said, trying to push himself into a seated position. He glanced back over to Lucille and saw she was now working at her normal pace, not giving him an ounce of attention. Angela helped him settle against the wire frame of the hospital bed, then pulled a cloth from her pocket and tied it into a sling for him. While she was close, he took the opportunity to whisper, “Hey, uh, is the bullet still really in there?”

“The doctor ordered me to leave it. And to only give you one dose of antibiotics.” Angela whispered back, and Bucky immediately noticed how she didn’t technically answer the question. He nodded, taking one last look at Lucille on the opposite end of the hospital. Her green eyes pierced into his, and he held her gaze. He felt in that moment he could read her thoughts. They were accomplices. 

“Another souvenir then.” he said, giving Angela the biggest smile he could muster. Her shoulders fell in relief as she finally let go of the ball of tension she’d been holding onto this entire time. Bucky didn’t know why the doctor gave the orders he did, but he was glad that Lucille had decided she knew better. He suddenly remembered calling her Doc the night before.  _ I’m not a doctor, Sergeant _ , she’d told him. Well, she was clearly more of a doctor than the actual physician. 

A seed of doubt suddenly sprouted in the back of his mind. If this physician made questionable calls, had something happened during Camp’s surgery the few days before? He tried to recall Lucille’s face that night, but the details were slim thanks to the dark and the fever. Had she been working uphill the whole surgery, fighting the physician  _ and _ Camp’s injury, just as she had done for him the night before? He took a look down at his arm; it was still covered in the clean gauze from some point during the early morning hours, and the red infection lines that spiderwebbed from it were gone. He gripped his sheets, testing the strength of his hand; there was still pain, but he could do it. A shudder went through him as it occurred to him that he might not have had an arm this morning - or, for that matter, his life. 

The more time passed, the better he felt, and the more he realized that the guys that were stuck in there with him were definitely suffering a lot more than he was. He knew he should be grateful for this moment of reprieve - after all, he wasn’t having to organize his platoon, or plan for contingencies in missions, or listen to his superiors bitch and moan about things that were outside his control. But seeing his fellow soldiers hovering somewhere between this world and the next was humbling to him, and made him itch to go out and do whatever he could to keep them safe. 

“If you keep thinking that hard, you’re going to hurt yourself.” a voice interrupted his stream of thought. He looked to see Lucille standing next to him, perusing his chart and acting oddly, purposefully calm. She looked much younger than he previously thought, now that she was up close and not clouded by the haze of fever. Lord knows she could bark orders at the other nurses like a woman decades older. 

“It’s okay, Doc, it’s just crickets and elevator music up here. Don’t you worry about me.” he said, tapping his temple. She didn’t glance his way, keeping her eyes on the papers in front of her as she made whatever notes, but one corner of her mouth lifted for just a second before returning to neutral.

“Not a doctor, Sergeant.” she stated.

“Barely a Sergeant, Doc.” he replied with a grin. She gripped her pen a little tighter, her jaw clenching at his response. Oh, yes, it was fun messing with her. Especially in his current weakened state. “Where’s Angie?”

“She’s on break, asked me to check in on her patients while she finally got something to eat.” she said. Again, there was something about the way she spoke that was just a little too deliberate. It made him feel like he was part of a conspiracy - which, if he read the room correctly earlier, he kind of was. “Are you feeling any better,  _ Barnes _ ?” she asked, stressing his last name. His grin grew wider.

“That’s my last name. You want it?” he countered, proud of the line. Maybe he’d just barely escaped death, and maybe he was trying to just have an ally instead of a bedmate, but he couldn’t turn down the opportunity. She still didn’t look up from the papers.

“You already tried that one. Answer’s still no.” she deadpanned, making him pout. Girls usually loved a line like that. She finally put the clipboard down, sparing him one look before moving to check the wound on his arm. 

“Guess I gotta come up with something more original.” he said, wincing as she removed the gauze, which was sticky from the dried blood over the now clean bullet hole. It oozed a bit as it opened, but nothing like it did before.

“You do that.” she replied, carefully cleaning the area with quick, practiced hands. “I think you’re ready for stitches again. The infection ruined your other ones.”

“It almost ruined a lot of things.” he said, matter-of-fact.  _ That _ comment finally got a real smile from her, but he didn’t acknowledge it, afraid that if he did he would scare it away. She wiped his arm one last time before standing up fully. 

“I’ll grab a suture kit and a lidocaine shot to numb the area. Do you want a bit of morphine before we begin?” she asked, all business. Bucky had never seen a woman so focused on her job, so serious. She was quickly racking up points in the  _ good ally _ column. 

“I’m good, Doc. You can save the lidocaine too.” he said. Part of it was a show of bravado, but a bigger part of it was the knowledge of exactly how long it took to get supplies to the front sometimes. 

“Are you sure? It’s going to hurt.” she said. She wasn’t as soft spoken as some of the other nurses Bucky had come across, but he appreciated her honesty. War was not the place for gentleness. He nodded.

“Save it for someone who needs it. I can take it.” he replied. She didn’t question him again, instead just going to the supply closet and digging through for what she needed. He wondered if she would bring the lidocaine back just in case, but she returned with only the suture kit, sealing his fate. 

“Hold still.” she instructed, and this time her tone was just a little more tender. She looked up at him once, her eyes searching for any hesitation from him. He simply nodded again, taking a deep breath and steeling himself for the pain. The bite of the needle definitely wasn’t pleasant, but Lucille moved with sure, smooth strokes, never pulling too hard on the thread or taking too long digging through the layers of his skin. She finished in record time, leaving nothing but a neat star made of string on his shoulder. 

“Thank you.” he said once she’d knotted the thread and cut the extra. She kept her eyes down, methodically packing away her used supplies. 

“Not a problem, Barnes. Glad you’re on the up and up, you should be able to get out of here this evening.” she said. He reached across and took her hand, making her movements stop suddenly and a faint blush appear on her cheeks. Ah, so she wasn’t  _ completely _ impervious to him.

“And thank you, for last night.” he whispered. Her eyes widened and her expression changed to one of relative panic, and he realized exactly how his words could come across. “No, not in - I just mean -”

“I don’t know what you mean, Sergeant.” she said carefully, though her expression had changed to one he couldn’t read. Her cheeks still burned, but ever so slightly, she grasped his hand back. “Angela will be back shortly. If you need anything, just call for her.” she said. Without waiting for a response, she pulled her hand away and stood, going back to the patients that were actually hers. He smiled at her retreating form before eyeing her handiwork, deciding that he liked both.

She was right. Once the sun had started its descent, Angela proudly stated that his wound was well on its way to healing, and Dr. Becker, with reluctant surprise, agreed that it was time for discharge. Bucky didn’t ask how long he needed to wear the sling, or if he should wait before picking up his gun again. He didn’t trust anything the doctor said, besides when he said he could leave. And even that was questionable. He bid his goodbye to Angela, thanking her sincerely for her help and making her blush heavily with the compliment. He didn’t say goodbye to Lu, figuring if he couldn’t even thank her for saving his life, then he probably shouldn’t bring any other attention to her. 

His first steps into freedom were interrupted by a private running up to him, out of breath and nervous looking. Bucky swore the new soldiers just kept getting younger and younger. “Sergeant Barnes?” the private asked, and Bucky wondered exactly how many sergeants he’d run up to that weren’t the one he was looking for.

“Depends who’s asking.” he replied. He went to make a cheeky joke about the secretaries doing clerical work for the unit, but the private didn’t give him the chance.

“The Major is asking for you. You’re the last to respond.” he said. Bucky perked an eyebrow, taking an obvious look down at his sling before answering the private.

“I’ve been otherwise engaged.” he said shortly. The private’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing like a fish before he finally managed to speak.

“Ri-right, yes, sorry, sir, uh,” he floundered, trying to salvage the conversation. Bucky sighed, clapping the guy on the shoulder.

“I get it. I’ll go right now. You return to your platoon.” he said. The private gave a sharp  _ yes, sir! _ accompanied by a salute, which Bucky on half-heartedly returned. The kid took that as dismissal, and turned on his heel to go back to wherever he was supposed to be. With lead in his shoes, Bucky made his way to the Major’s tent.

“Nice of you to grace me with your presence, Barnes.” the Major said as soon as he walked in the door. The older man folded his hands together, looking like a slightly disappointed but more annoyed father. Bucky stood up a little straighter, feeling like he was about to get a scolding for coming home past curfew with Steve’s blood on his shirt and a rip in his sleeve.

“Apologies, Major. Been in the infirmary.” he said, nodding towards the sling. The Major took pause then, taking in Bucky’s injury.

“How long until doc said you can fight again?” he asked, and Bucky could practically see the wheels turning in his mind as he reconfigured whatever he was planning. He shrugged in response.

“Don’t know. The doctor didn’t say.” he replied. Dr. Becker was not worthy of the moniker of  _ doc _ . That was reserved for Lu alone. “But I can make do. Where are we needed?”

“We’re actually breaking camp, starting tomorrow.” the Major said. “Organize your platoon, get everything in order.”

“May I ask where we’re going?” he said hesitantly. He hated breaking camp. Traveling on the open road always made him feel exposed and vulnerable. The Major let out a breath, organizing the papers on his desk. 

“Allies are planning to land in Salerno and Taranto. We need to move to join up with them in Azzano.” he explained, putting the stack down and looking Bucky in the eye, waiting for the challenge.

“Azzano. Italy.” he said. It was supposed to be a question, but really he was hoping he heard wrong.

“Italy.” the Major confirmed.

“The same Italy that’s right close to Germany? That Italy?” Bucky asked. He could hear his pulse in his ears. His adrenaline kicked in, taking all the pain out of his arm. Italy. They were being sent to Italy, just a month after the government fell. It would be in chaos.

“The very one.” the Major said. Suddenly, Bucky realized that he was not happy about this assignment either. But they were soldiers, fighting for freedom. And they would go where they were needed. 

“I’ll tell the boys to start packing.” Bucky said, his voice losing all the bite and confidence he had earlier. He felt like tomorrow they were going to start the trip right to their grave. He’d never let the men think that, of course. But if they survived, it was gonna be after one hell of a fight. 

The Major dismissed him, and as he pushed out of the tent, a numbness settled over him. It could be worse, he tried to rationalize. It could be France, or it could be Germany. Maybe Italy would be okay. Maybe it would be somewhat organized by the time they got there.

It was a foolish thought, he knew, but he had to hold onto something. 

For the second time that day, Lucille interrupted his thoughts by appearing next to him. It was a bit more of a surprise this time, and he had to keep himself from jumping. “The crickets look pretty loud.” she commented, walking alongside him. It was enough to split his frown into a grin.

“You’d think. But it’s the elevator music that drowns everything out.” he replied. “Thought we were supposed to act like we don’t know each other?”

“Dr. Becker just can’t see.” she replied, and even in the moonlight she could see her eyebrows pinching together as she something crossed her mind. “I don’t know why he didn’t want to give you antibiotics.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad you didn’t listen to him.” Bucky commented, making her shoot a glare out of the corner of her eye.

“I would never do such a thing.” she replied lightly, actually raising her nose up in the air like the silly socialite girls he’d known back in New York. He dropped his smile, giving an overly serious look.

“Oh no, of course not.” he replied, shaking his head for good measure. Her hand grazed his as they walked, and for a moment he thought she was flirting, but when he looked he saw that she was holding up her hand, her fingers curled over something. “What d’you got there?”

She opened up her fist, displaying a clean bullet. It was different from the ones that the US soldiers were issued. “Want to keep it?” she asked quietly. He thought of really taking her hand, using the bullet as an excuse. After all, if they were playing spy, they had to be secretive, right? But he thought of her blush earlier at his physical contact and decided against it, instead plucking the bullet from her palm and shoving his hand into his pocket.

“You know me so well already. Thank you.” he said, and he hoped she knew that he meant for more than just the bullet. She nodded, moving to peel off towards the nurses’ barracks.

“See you around, Barnes.” she said, and he thought maybe she was almost enjoying his company. He gave her a playful smile.

“Don’t be a stranger, Doc.” he replied, laughing when she shot him a dirty look. He felt lighter then as he walked towards his own barracks, preparing to tell his men their new instructions. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of protectiveness towards Lucille; she took care of him, and he owed her his life. And now, as they went into the belly of the beast, it would be his job to take care of her.

He was determined. She would  _ not _ be a strike on his list.


	6. Yes, Sir - June 3, 2014

**Chapter 6: Yes, Sir**

**June 3, 2014**

They were back in the warehouse, sitting across from each other with a pile of museum pamphlets and a knife between them. Both of them were taking slow, measured breaths, trying to prevent their minds from reeling and breaking as they took in all the information. Summer had wanted to stay in the museum and see what else they could find, perhaps in the archives, but Winter shut the idea down. It was already too much of a risk to go the first time, a longer or second trip would only increase the likelihood of recognition, which may lead to their capture. When they walked away from the man on the river - Steve - it had been due to a change in the mission. But now, they were consciously and willingly walking away, and had no intentions of going back.

“We have to take them out.” Winter said. She didn’t have to ask to what he was referring. Her hand drifted to her forearm, feeling the hard metal bump under the skin where the kill tracker was. If she was honest, she was surprised their handlers hadn’t activated them already, but perhaps they thought Winter and Summer would reappear once the chaos died down. She held her arm out.

“Yes, sir.” she said. She was not afraid of the pain. She was more afraid of Hydra finding them. Without hesitation, Winter picked up the knife, feeling her skin until he found the pill shaped tracker. Her skin warmed wherever he touched it, and she figured it was from the prolonged pressure. Very rarely had they touched each other besides when instructed to fight or assist one another. A quick swipe and a pinch, both of which she tolerated without a wince, and the tracker popped out onto the concrete floor with a clatter. She wrapped her wound in a clean strip of cloth before taking the knife from him, repeating the motion so that his tracker laid next to hers. They couldn’t look away from them, but also couldn’t destroy them - as soon as the signal went off line, the countdown would begin. 

“Do you remember when we came to Hydra?” Summer asked. The more time that passed, the more they could feel the grip on their brains loosening. Hydra was still all she could remember, but she was at least beginning to feel like there was something else, something tucked so deep in her mind that she couldn’t reach it. Winter shook his head.

“I remember the train.” he said, though even that wasn’t completely the truth. He just remembered Steve reaching for him, calling Bucky’s name. He was still having trouble believing that he was this Bucky. He lifted his metal arm, turning the hand over so that the plates clicked into place. “I remember the surgery.” 

“Surgery.” Summer repeated, eyeing his arm. Suddenly, in her mind’s eye, she could see the stump of the shoulder that was left underneath the metal. And then she could also see the men in the surgical masks, coming for her with scalpels. She’d had surgery too, though she couldn’t remember where, or why. Had she been injured, like Winter? She reached down, picking up the nearest pamphlet. It had a picture of Steve on the front, his shield gripped in both hands as he bowed his head. She opened it and began reading, though she’d already read it twice before. “We were in Italy.” she said, getting to the part about Captain America rescuing the 107th. She could remember a cage, a bunker. But was that from before or after Hydra had molded her into who she was now?

“I don’t remember Italy.” Winter said. He sounded frustrated, and Summer could understand the feeling. For decades, it had been their job to find information that was supposed to stay hidden, and now they couldn’t even get the information out of their own heads. Another way Hydra found to hide things in plain sight. Summer held up the pamphlet.

“He could give us more information.” she said, gesturing to Steve. He seemed to be the easiest source. Sure, he was enhanced like they were, but one super soldier was no match for two.

“No.” Winter said sharply, making her spine straighten as she snapped to attention. “Too much risk.”

“Yes, sir.” she said, pressing her lips together and waiting for him to decide their next move. That is what Hydra always drilled into her: Winter was in charge. Summer needed to follow his orders. She found herself wanting to push back, but figured that was just because she was confused from all of this and trying to sort it out. Winter was in charge. Winter knew best. She looked back down and opened the pamphlet, the picture of the young Winter staring back at her. “Should we go to Brooklyn?” 

He was silent for a long time, calculating. New York was highly populated, he knew that. They’d been there relatively recently, during the time with Hydra. He couldn’t remember why they’d been there, or what happened, but he still knew it to be true. A part of him longed to return there, to see if they could gather more data or perhaps shake loose a few more memories. They came to him now in bits and pieces, never fully actualized or sticking around for long. But they were there, repressed under everything. Going to New York would surely help. And it would probably be the first place Hydra would look for them.

“No, not Brooklyn.” he said, this time his voice softer. “Any public information won’t be detailed enough. We need to go back to the source.”

“You want us to go back to Hydra?” she asked, her voice even despite the icy grip around her heart. Though Hydra was all she knew, the thought of going back to them sounded worse than living a life of shadows and amnesia. At least here there was no pain. “Purposefully?”

“No. We’re walking away.” he reiterated, urgent. They’d made this decision, and they were going to see it through. They were done listening to the men in lab coats. “But there’s an old base, in Canada. Remember it?”

“Canada.” she said, trying the name out. It sounded familiar, and she blinked rapidly as she tried to recall. “Yes. We were only there for a short time. For training.”

“Yes. The trainee destroyed it. It’s abandoned.” he reminded her. She wondered how he knew that. She shook the thought before it took hold; Winter would not betray her. They were partners, one never without the other. He was the only person in the world that she felt bonded to, and she could tell it was the same for him. They’d fought together and saved each other too many times to consider any alternative. “But there may still be something there. Something about...us.”

She checked the pamphlet, as if waiting for the people pictured to answer her. They had no advice to give. “It will be dangerous. They could find us.”

“We will be discreet.” he said. It was still hard for her to get used to him speaking English; she’d heard nothing but Russian for so long that his voice sounded completely different, but not in an uncomfortable way. It sounded more natural. “But it will still be the most difficult mission we’ve ever attempted.”

“Then we plan. And we scout.” she said. Usually their handlers would simply dole out their mission like a shopping list, counting on their training to handle any contingencies. But they were quickly shaking the rust from the part of their training that built missions from the ground up. Hydra originally wanted them to be leaders of a whole troop of super soldiers...but she couldn’t remember why the idea never took shape. It didn’t matter. They would lead themselves now. “And when we’re ready, we strike.”

Winter nodded, his brows pinched together in thought. He picked up another one of the glossy pamphlets, carefully thumbing through it as if it held some sort of secret that they hadn’t discovered yet. He settled on a picture of Steve with the younger version of himself - Bucky - smiling over a large battle map. His icy blue eyes raised. “Does the phrase ‘til the end of the line’ mean anything to you?”

“Til the end of the line.” she said, the words feeling familiar even though she had no memory of saying them. “Til the end of the line.” she tried again, feeling like she was so close to an epiphany, but the thought escaped like smoke through her fingers. She shook her head. “No. Not yet.” 

“Dammit.” Winter whispered. It felt good to curse. They’d been punished so many times for speaking out of turn that the smallest thing felt like a massive, liberating rebellion. One more link of the chain tying him to Hydra fell off. Summer willed her muscles to relax, knowing that there were no men in lab coats or tactical gear around to hear their talk. For right now, they had a freedom that they hadn’t had in...she didn’t know how long. She gathered the pamphlets and stuffed them into the bag she’d stolen the night before, along with a couple bottles of water and a box of protein bars. It would be enough to sustain them for the time being. 

“Let’s go to Canada.” she said, standing up. There was no need to waste time; Hydra operatives would already be out looking for them, and they weren’t going to get any more answers sitting here. The antsiness that had been crawling through her bones was finally satiated, now that they had an objective and a destination. Winter joined her, slinging her rifle over his back before putting the pack over it, almost hiding it from view. Makeshift holsters under their jackets held what weapons Summer had left, enough to half-arm both of them. They would obtain more on their journey. She gathered her hair, long and tangled and dangerously bright blonde, and twisted it so she could hide it under her baseball cap. They had to hide all identifying factors. Winter crushed the trackers beneath the heel of his boot, and then they were off.

The sun was setting as they exited the warehouse, giving them a relatively firm grasp on which direction was north. Even if they had a map in the pack, they didn’t bother pulling it out; Hydra would have eyes on all major roads, but if they kept to smaller streets and moved without a direct route, it would be more difficult for them to track or predict their movements. Many people were still out on the sidewalk, either leaving for work or making their way home. Summer eyed each person they passed while Winter took casual glances behind them, making sure they weren’t being followed. It was just a matter of getting out of the city and into the countryside. If they could make it out of the city, evasive maneuvers would be easier, and the search area would greatly increase. 

They walked in silence, focused on the task at hand and watching each other’s back. It was at least six hundred miles to the base in the wildlands of Ontario, so once they were out of the red zone they would have to steal a car, unless they wanted to spend the next two weeks walking. And while their bodies and healing capabilities were definitely built to last such a trip, it was not ideal to allow themselves to fatigue, especially since they were going back into the heart of Hydra. 

The darkness grew as they reached the edge of the city, thanks both to the passage of time and their distance from the bright lights of downtown. The foot traffic thinned, making them more obvious on the sidewalk, but also making it more obvious if anyone was following them. So far, they seemed to be staying under the radar, but the constant spasm between Summer’s shoulder blades was not going to let go until they were far, far away from here. 

New car models had many anti-theft measures, making it more difficult for them to acquire one. They encountered one older vehicle that would probably give out on their trip north, but when they came close they found someone sleeping in the back seat, the front seat full of possessions. They decided against the older cars at that point. 

They bristled as a car sped past them, the Mercedes emblem barely visible as it screeched and turned into the last parking spot in a row, the driver ignoring a different car that was signalling to take the spot. The other driver rolled down his window to say a few words, but the Mercedes man (if he was old enough to be called a man) simply laughed and shrugged the exclamation off, giving a sarcastic wave as he started down the sidewalk towards Winter and Summer. The two soldiers shared a look and Summer nodded, adjusting her walk so her hands were free. Winter fell back, giving her ample space to lull the mark into a sense of security. The Mercedes driver, concerned with whatever was on his phone, didn’t realize until too late that he was on a collision course, knocking into Summer right outside one of the apartment buildings.

“Oof! Hey, watch it - I mean, uh, I’m so sorry.” his demeanor changed when he saw her face. Summer gave a wan smile, her muscles not quite used to the expression.

“Sorry.” she said, holding her hands up to show they were empty, and that the run-in was accidental. She tried to walk away, but he still grinned at her.

“It’s all good. Do I know you?” he asked. Summer stuffed her hands into her pocket, holding onto the key she’d just lifted.

“No.” she said shortly, her smile immediately falling as she turned away from him, walking purposefully down the sidewalk. The man paused for a second, looking after her, and Winter took the opportunity to knock into him with his metal shoulder as he walked by, earning the satisfying sound of all the air rushing from the man’s lungs. He tried to call after him, perhaps to start a fight, but Winter walked quickly and confidently, not allowing the man anything. With a curse and a grumbling, the man went into the apartment building. If they hurried, they’d have just enough time to get out before the man realized his car was missing.

Summer was already in the driver’s seat when he got there, her fingers flying over the screen as she disabled anything that would allow the owner to find the vehicle. Once that was finished, Winter sank his metal hand into the screen, the glass and metal crunching and squealing as he grabbed it and pulled it out, discarding it into the back seat.  _ Fuck Hitler _ . Winter didn’t know where the thought came from, but at least it sounded like his own voice this time. 

It took Summer a minute to remember how to drive, but the habit soon resurfaced, and she exited the parking spot and took off, minding the speed limit. They would have to change either the car or the plates eventually so as to not be tracked, but for now, they needed to avoid any unwanted attention. Winter pulled the map out then, running down a list of streets and turns that she needed to make to get them in the right direction. Summer wondered why she was able to remember his orders perfectly, but she still couldn’t remember if her name was really Lucille. 

“Yes, sir.” she said once he was finished with his instructions. It was dark out, but her eyes were sharp, and it was easy to match the map in her head with the shape of the roads. “Rest now. I’ll take first watch.” 

“Wake me at midnight.” Winter replied. There was no fighting her; she would soon need relief, and they needed to take any opportunity to rest. They didn’t know what they were going to find in Ontario. 

Summer couldn’t help but glance over once or twice at Winter’s sleeping form. She rarely saw him sleep when they were with Hydra, but now it was a daily occurrence. He didn’t look like himself. Of course, the scruff on his face changed it as well, but even without it she could tell the difference. His expressions were no longer as harsh, and his voice was only chilling and commanding when he needed it to be. The differences were slight, but to her enhanced senses they were obvious. She wondered if she had any of the changes herself. 

At midnight, they switched cars and switched drivers, leaving the Mercedes behind and instead opting for a large pick up truck. It was a little tricky getting across international lines, but he managed to sneak them through without waking Summer. She slept fitfully in the seat, her limbs twitching and the occasional gasp escaping her lips. She sounded like she was in pain, though he knew she couldn’t be - at least, not in physical pain. The nightmares haunted him as well, but when she woke, neither one of them moved to talk about it. 

They had to abandon the pick up a few miles from their destination, the cold cutting into them as they pushed into the woods. At least here, hidden amongst the trees, they didn’t have to try and disguise their weapons, freely carrying them in case of danger or attack. It was still early in the morning, so early that the world was barely grey with the first tellings of dawn, and the only sound in the woods were the wildlife and the crunching of snow and ice underneath their boots. They knew when they were getting close to the base because the sounds of the birds and squirrels quieted and then disappeared altogether; even though the base was (supposedly) abandoned for years, the wildlife still knew not to go there.

The clearing was empty, and the only reason they knew it was the right one was the suspiciously shaped mound of snow in the middle. A decade’s worth of not-quite-thawed ice laid under the fresh powder, confirming what they believed: no one was here. Though the knot between her shoulder blades was still there, Summer at least felt like she could breathe. They used their knives to chip away at the thickly layered ice, Winter having to use the strength of his metal arm to smash it away from the hinges just enough so they could push the door open.

Inside it was dark and musty, the air stale after being trapped for so long. The layer of dust over everything was very thin, showing how quickly the ventilation shafts had been covered by the snow and ice. They both pulled out a pistol and a knife, readying themselves for anything they might find in the dark. 

“Main computers.” Winter whispered, his voice echoing in the empty hall no matter how quiet he tried to keep it. Summer nodded her understanding, moving to cover his right side. The air changed as they entered the central lab; close to the doors it had been lighter, but now it was thick with the smell of death and decay. The floor was covered with bodies in various states of deterioration, the white of their lab coats stained black with their blood. In the middle was a row of glass tubes big enough to hold a human, the farthest one broken and shattered. Glass covered the floor, sparkling in the dim light of the flashlights as they swept the area for any signs of life. Summer wondered if she was supposed to feel bad for these dead men and women, because currently all she felt was that they deserved it. 

She paused at the broken tube, eyeing the jagged edges of the glass. Blood stained it as well, matching the rest of the base. They’d tried to keep her and Winter in the tubes once, she remembered. But they’d woken up too quickly when they pulled them, and they were nearly able to escape. It was back in the ice box after that.

“This way.” Winter’s voice was not commanding, but it was urgent. They didn’t know if there were any active trespassing measures, and they needed to get what they needed and get back out.

“Yes, sir.” she replied, shaking off the memory. So, this wasn’t the first time they’d tried to walk away. It was just the first time they were successful. 

They stepped over the skeletons, trying not to disturb their rest. The smell was suffocating to their sensitive noses, and despite all of their years of training and torture, their stomachs still rolled with nausea, and they finally had to break down and pull their t-shirts over their noses. It was the first sign of weakness they’d seen in each other, at least in recent memory. The computers were down below the lab, a huge room filled with screens and massive system units, all silent as the scientists above them. Winter went to the nearest one, tapping a few of the keys to see if it turned on. Summer moved to the one next to it, her eyes flying over the buttons until she found one that looked right. She pressed it, the screen coming to life as the box whirred. Winter pointed his pistol at the Hydra symbol that appeared, flashing red before a log in box appeared. 

“What now?” she asked. They didn’t have log ins, they were just assets, just tools to be used and put back in the drawer. Winter paused, looking at the screen in a way that suggested he was somewhere else in his mind. Slowly, one key at a time, he tapped in a name and a password, both of them holding their breath as he pressed enter. The screen changed, opening a sparse desktop. “How did you know that?”

“I’m not sure.” he said. He couldn’t verbalize the memory in his head, watching the same man log in over and over to the computer next to the machine chair. He had never seen the screen, and had to estimate based on how the man’s hands had moved as he keyed it in. Summer took the answer at face value, grabbing the computer mouse and moving to click on the icon labeled  _ Database _ , figuring that was the best place to start. This was something they were more comfortable with; their training with computers had been minimal, but they were taught how to retrieve information. Into the separate search boxes she typed  _ Winter _ and  _ Summer _ , seeing if that would bring up anything. A long list of documents appeared, dating back as far as 1945 and filed under  _ Archive - Siberia _ . Summer found one of the older ones, labelled  _ December 1949 _ , and clicked to open it. Once again they flinched as they saw their own faces, though the people staring back at them still had a certain fire in their eyes. Though the pictures didn’t move, it was obvious that Lucille Peters and Bucky Barnes were still fighting to get out. Next to their pictures and demographics there was a short, handwritten entry, transcribed into Russian text below it. 

_ Subjects #017 and #039 continue to resist the injections and current tactics for breaking. As thus, I have decided to name them Summer and Winter, the strongest of the seasons, and the most unrelenting. My colleagues suggest that they are too much trouble, that I should simply terminate them and move on to more malleable subjects, but they fail to see the potential of these two assets. Whatever strength they hold in this life will be compounded when I finally indoctrinate them and turn them into the perfect weapons. They will be able to function independently, but combined they will be unstoppable.  _

_ The guards in the hot box tell me that Summer and Winter speak to each other when down in their holding cells. I’m considering separating them, hypothesizing that they will give up faster if they lack social support. But then I also risk them not having a strong bond once the programming takes hold. Perhaps it is worth a short term trial. Then, if it does not work- _

Summer stopped reading as Winter moved away, opening and closing drawers rapidly until he found an unused thumb drive. He grabbed it, handing it to Summer. “Download it. We need to move.” 

She didn’t need to be told twice. “Yes, sir.” she said, putting the drive in the USB port and selecting all the files, copying them to the drive. She didn’t know if he heard something or if it was simply his internal alarm sounding; she knew her own warning bells were ramping up to ring. Her nervous eyes watched the progress bar as it ticked towards one hundred percent, her mind trying not to think too hard about what she just read. As soon as it hit, she ejected the drive and stuffed it into one of her pockets. They didn’t exchange words as they left and didn’t bother covering their tracks; it would be obvious they were here if anyone were to look. 

But they wouldn’t know where Summer and Winter were going next. 

  
  



	7. Pack - July 12, 1943

**Chapter 7: Pack**

**July 12, 1943**

Breaking camp was easily the most tedious and frustrating thing about being in the Army. 

Maybe other units had a better system - maybe they were quick and organized, a well oiled machine as they disassembled tents and marquees and the makeshift buildings assigned to them. Maybe they didn’t have issues with nuts and bolts and screws falling into the mud and getting lost forever. Maybe they didn’t have at least seven, but less than ten men who had to take a break after getting their bell rung by a falling pole. Maybe other units didn’t have a private accidentally get tangled up in the canvas and almost get loaded into the back of a truck. But the 107th was not so lucky. 

The breakdown started before the sun, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel like the loud clanking and yelling accompanying it was just making them an easier target for the enemy. He knew, logically, that patrols were sent and sentries stationed to ensure their safety during this vulnerable moment, but that didn’t make it any easier on him. His rifle was hung with the rest of his platoon’s, but he couldn’t help but keep a pistol and a knife on him, just in case. As the sky lightened to a different shade of grey, he noticed that the entire camp was coming apart except for the hospital. Even with the large truck in front of it, the structure stood untouched. His heart gave a hard pulse in concern, causing a beat of pain to echo in his arm. Surely they weren’t leaving their medical team behind? 

“Hey Sarge, where ya goin’?” Howard called as Bucky moved away from his spot. The kid was looking for any excuse not to do the work in front of him.

“Gotta go check something.” he threw over his shoulder, the response apparently inadequate as an explanation if the hubbub that rose afterwards was any indication.

“I want a break too!” Williams hollered, and Bucky rolled his eyes even if the other man couldn’t see him do it.

“Fill out a T.S. slip!” he replied, grinning to himself.  _ Tough Shit. _ It was one of his favorite responses to toss at his platoon, as if he actually had any power over them. 

“Barnes!” Howard whined, as if his addition would change his course of action. 

“Turn ‘em in to the chaplain!” Bucky added, getting a string of disrespectful curses that would have them in hot water with any other Sergeant. But Bucky wasn’t a normal Sergeant. His men liked to give it back to him whenever possible, which he didn’t mind; to him, it helped instill a sense of camaraderie. But today he didn’t have time for it, and instead chose to exercise his right - as Sergeant - to walk away without further comment.

The hospital was in complete disarray. Angie and Lu were trying to organize the contents of the cabinets into crates while two other nurses he didn’t recognize were checking in on the patients, all of whom were colored with varying shades of worry. Two more nurses were organizing linens and breaking down the beds, the greasy tools looking out of place with their clean hands and uniforms. While none of the patients were in his platoon, he still knew all of them; the unit was pretty much its own small town. The physician, somehow, was nowhere to be seen. Even with his limited medical knowledge, Bucky knew that none of these men were in a state to travel. He stepped over to the cabinets, grabbing Lu’s sleeve between his thumb and forefinger and tugging her away.

“What-” she snapped, her green eyes alight in the fury worn by a woman with too much to do. She softened when she saw it was him, but only slightly. “Barnes, I’m sorry, I don’t have time-”

“What do you need help with?” he asked, trying not to be offended at her look of surprise that followed his offer. She recovered a moment later, her mask of professionalism back on. There was no sign of the girl who’d given him his bullet back the night before.

“Help me load these. I can’t carry them and pack them at the same time.” she said with all the bark and confidence of the highest commander. He eyed the boxes, hoping they weren’t too heavy. He wasn’t entirely sure he could haul them with his arm, but for the woman who saved his life? He was damn well gonna try. She put a hand on Angela’s back, using the other to gesture to a pile of supplies. “Prepare the patients for transport. Make sure they’re as stable as possible.”

Angela nodded, flashed Bucky a quick smile, and did as she was told. Lu, satisfied with how the first crate was organized, put the top on it and lifted up. She gestured to the second shelf with her head. “Make sure all that is  _ organized _ in the box. Keep each shelf to one if you can.”

“Somehow I feel like our roles should be reversed.” he said, gesturing to the box in her arms that was obviously pretty heavy. She gave him an unamused look.

“And somehow I feel like you were told to stay in a sling. Yet here we are.” she retorted, turning sharply and marching out the front of the tent. Bucky smirked, though she didn’t turn around to see it, and resigned himself to also doing as he was told. Usually he wasn’t one for getting orders thrown at him, but he didn’t mind so much if it was from a smart, pretty blonde. He learned quickly that his injured arm wasn’t much good for lifting anything more weighty than a roll of gauze, and thus he was subjected to the chagrin at being wrong as well as packing the crates with his one good hand, occasionally repositioning things so that they fit. It wasn’t near as pretty as the box Angela and Lu had packed, but it was packed nonetheless. The lid even fit on it. 

“Next one up.” he said as Lu walked back in, using his foot to push the crate in her direction and ignoring the scary sounds of glass clanking within it. She gave him another glare, which only made him smile. “You know, you keep doing that, your face is gonna get stuck.”

“I preferred you when you were unconscious.” she snapped back, picking up the box and walking out before he could say another word. He shook his head, laughing to himself as he started on another crate. It was much more fun to help pack up the hospital with the nurses than out in the cold with the chuckleheads of his platoon, and he was going to milk it for as long as he could. He tried to lift the last box to maintain his last shred of dignity, but that proved too much for his injured limb, so instead he left it for Lu and went to help the other girls. Tied bundles of bed rods, along with smiles from the nurses? He could handle that with one hand easy.

“Sergeant? Are you sure you should be doing that?” Angie asked timidly. Bucky shrugged, hefting the metal poles onto his shoulder.

“If I don’t do it here, they’re just gonna make me do it out there, Angie.” he said. She blinked rapidly before seeing his point and nodding, turning away with a blush coloring her cheeks. He shook his head at her reaction, which warmed him enough to keep him from grimacing in the cold as he carried the poles out to the waiting truck. Lu appeared from the cab, crossing her arms and leaning against the back.

“You’re such a good Samaritan.” she said, only slightly sarcastically. He snorted, shaking his head.

“Nah, just doing my duty.” he replied. The look on her face said that she didn’t believe him one bit. “What? You don’t believe I’m just helping out the girls who saved my life?”

“I believe that no young, handsome serviceman does anything ‘just to help out.’” she said, her face making an expression that his mother would be proud of. And yet, all he could do was smirk.

“You think I’m handsome?” he asked, pretending to miss her point completely. He knew to what she was referring of course, but he also knew that women who were defensive at baseline did not respond well if he also got defensive. She rolled her eyes, her mouth setting in a hard line. It made her look older than she really was. 

“I think you’ve got ulterior motives.” she said, kicking off the truck and moving back towards the hospital. And, since he was nothing if not stubborn, Bucky followed her.

“I think you’ve got the wrong idea about me.” he said, holding the flap open for her to walk in. She glared at him over her shoulder, going to grab the last supplies crate. 

“And let me guess, you’re gonna show me you’re different? Change my mind?” she said, her tone of voice suggesting that he was not the first man to say that to her. But perhaps he would be the first man who meant it.

“Nope. I’m just here to help, Doc. Just like you helped me.” he said. He didn’t wait for another snarky reply from her, instead just grabbing another bundle of bed rods and taking them to the truck. She didn’t make another jab at him after that, and when he simply stayed in his lane and did as he said he would, he was rewarded with a hesitant smile from her. He liked making her smile. He’d be lying if he said she wasn’t pretty, or that he wouldn’t take her for a dance if he could, but he also  _ wasn’t _ lying when he said he just wanted to help. Turns out, nearly dying tends to change a man. Perhaps it wasn’t as dramatic of a change as it would have been if he was still a dumb teenager in Brooklyn, but it was a change nonetheless. He lived to fight another day, and he was going to do everything he could to make sure he gave as many people possible that same chance.

And, if he got to make friends with the nurses while doing that, so be it.

When he’d done as much as he could, he figured he’d avoided his own responsibilities long enough and should probably return to his men. He gave the girls a half-hearted salute, smiling as Angie offered up a timid and blushing  _ thank you, Sergeant Barnes _ . Lu gave another one of her rare grins, nearly toppling him over. Two in one day? He thought his heart would never be still again. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Williams asked once Bucky actually got to them. A small group of his men were set up on crates eating something that didn’t look entirely edible. He stole a chunk of it from Williams’ plate anyways, ignoring the glare his brother in arms gave him and taking a bite from what turned out to be extremely stale Irish soda bread. It was so dry he wasn’t sure even Steve’s mother, God rest her soul, would be able to save it and turn it into something palatable. 

“Hepih da mehd shaff.” he said around the odd mixture of sand and cardboard in his mouth. They all gave him blank stares, waiting for him to chew and swallow and give them an actual answer. “Helping the med staff.”

“Instead of helping us?” Howard accused, though Bucky knew the tone stemmed from jealousy rather than actual anger. He sat down on one of crates, figuring he needed to take advantage of having the seat before the next truck came and they had to pack them away. 

“Are you asking if I’d rather help the beautiful nurses than stare at you guys’ ugly mugs? Cause the answer is yes. A hundred times over.” he said without hesitation. 

“It’s a rough life in the lonely hearts club.” Williams said, feigning a pitying sigh. Bucky would’ve shot a hand out and punched the guy, but since his left (and nearest) arm was currently out of commission, he had to fight using his words instead. 

“Some of us didn’t want to be tied down while taking this grand tour of Europe.” he said, as if being over here was a choice and not the worst thing to ever happen to all of them. “Didn’t you hear, boys? We’re headed to Italy next.”

“I heard the women in Italy like to feel the breeze under their skirts, if you know what I mean.” Howard offered, making all the men groan in annoyance.

“Howard, none of the women in Italy want you even  _ thinking _ about what’s going on under their skirts.” Bucky remarked, though he wasn’t exactly  _ not _ curious about the state of dress (or undress) that Italian women preferred. The man’s cheeks reddened, and he made a few attempts at stammering a retort before giving up with a sigh. The poor guy was no lothario, but instead about as awkward as a teenager with the gangly limbs to match. And if he ever got a little drink in him, the awkwardness was only compounded. Bucky thought Steve was bad, but he couldn’t even hold a candle to Howard.

“Leave the kid alone, Sarge.” Williams said. He was the oldest of their group, drafted right on the cusp of exiting the age range. As a bachelor working in a butcher shop in South Carolina, he hadn’t exactly had a reason to say no; conscientious objection wasn’t even an option. He was already old and tired, even before he was thrown into the Army.

“Sorry, Dad.” Bucky said, earning a scowl from the man. It only made him look even more old and tired. He took another bite from the soda bread, remembering too late how horrible it was; Howard was saved from any more comments by the fact that his teeth were now glued together for the foreseeable future.

Their fun was cut short as another truck screeched to a halt next to them, kicking up mud over their already muddy boots. No matter their differences, the heavy sigh that exited them at that moment was identical. Could they not get a minute’s rest in this damn war? Their chairs were immediately taken and loaded into the truck, along with all the other crates in the general vicinity. A quick look down the makeshift road told him that the barracks were already torn down, and a cursory glance back from where he came showed that the hospital was on its way to being nothing but a pile of string, metal, and canvas. He idly wondered if Lu was going to be riding in one of the ambulances with the patients, or in the buses with the rest of the soldiers. It was a silly thought, of course; likely the medical staff would travel together, though he thought it would be best to separate them in case of an attack. But he wasn’t in charge, so he dismissed the concern, knowing that if thinking about it would just add another thing for him to stress out about during the trip. 

The last bit of packing was always the worst, the camp scrambling around to pick up odds and ends and tossing them into trucks so they wouldn’t get left behind. More often than not, that led to these odds and ends getting lost during transit as they were shuffled around during the ride. Bucky made sure to keep his meager possessions in his bag, the heavy military-issued duffle filled with uniforms and gear and the few letters he’d managed to get from Steve and his sister Rebecca. He tried not to be too sentimental, knowing how it tended to send some men towards a mild version of insanity, but it was nice to have a piece of home with him, however small. 

Lu chose to travel even lighter. She didn’t have any letters to speak of, nor any time to pen her own. She kept no diary, had no pictures, and thought a glass bottle of perfume was a risk more than anything. Her nursing uniforms were stashed in Angela’s trunk, allowing her a little more freedom during travel. All she had in her satchel was a book, emergency first aid supplies, and a single tube of red lipstick that she only broke out when the other nurses dragged her to the nearest dance halls the few times it was an option. 

It was like wrangling cats, getting all the women and men of the medical team organized and getting the few critical patients they had ready for transport. She wasn’t even in charge, but she liked to bark orders cause they helped her pretend she was confident and sure, and reinforced that she knew her shit and knew what she was about. When the last patient was loaded into an ambulance and his nurses set and ready with him, she finally allowed herself to head towards the front truck where the rest of the medical staff were, already seated and ready to leave. She did not expect someone to swing down from one of the buses, landing just close enough that she instinctively jumped away, her hand coming up to protect herself if she needed.

“Geeze, Doc, it’s just me.” Bucky said, giving her a dashing smile. He was handsome, she would allow him that. But she’d known a lot of handsome men in the service. It didn’t make him special.

“That doesn’t make me feel safer.” she replied, making sure to force her tone into something more teasing instead of overly sarcastic. It was something she was working on, especially after a comment from Angela that she tended to come across harsh. She didn’t consider herself harsh, she just wasn’t always good at making it obvious that she was joking. 

“Well it should, I’m a gentleman and a scholar  _ and _ an expert marksman.” he bragged. She perked an eyebrow, wondering if the comment was made to impress her or if Bucky was just naturally a wordy person.

“Is that why they have you riding up top? Or is that just because the rest of the platoon is tired of you beating your gums?” she countered, wincing inwardly as she said it. Being a woman in a male-dominated area, especially one with such close quarters as an Army base, meant that she had two choices: be flirty and dainty, batting her eyelashes and smiling in order to get what she wanted, or making a valiant attempt at being one of the guys. She didn’t care for either option, but her personality tended much towards the second. 

“Quite the opposite. I’m sick of them riding my case just cause I had the audacity to get shot.” he replied. He still wasn’t wearing his sling, but did have his left hand stuffed into his pocket, giving his arm a little bit of support. She nodded at his covered shoulder.

“How’s it feeling?” she asked. She was worried that, even with her extra intervention, he didn’t have enough treatment to really defeat the infection. But his color was good, his eyes were bright, and he was no longer confused or fatigued, and she almost started to think that he was going to be alright.

“A little sore, but nothing unmanageable. Nothing that’s gonna keep me down, at least.” he said, giving her that trademark grin. He was a little cocky; it made her want to continue taking jabs at him until it took him down a peg.

“Good.” she said, taking a cursory glance around them. No one was nearby, at least near enough to be within earshot. “Cause I’m all out of spare miracles.”

“Well, I’m glad you gave your last one to me. I’ll try not to waste it.” he said. He held his hand out, and for a moment she thought he wanted her to hold it, but then she realized he was reaching for her bag. “Come on, let me walk you to your greyhound.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Lu said. She was always wary of favors, no matter how innocent they appeared. He looked annoyed for a second before chuckling lowly, shaking his head.

“Doc, I owe you my life. Now let me carry your damn bag and walk with you.” he deadpanned, then added as an afterthought, “Please.”

His expression actually made her laugh, just a little bit. Usually she would deflect the compliment, say that it was the doctor or the hard work from the patient that led to healing. But this time, for once, the patient was right. “Alright. I guess I can allow it.” she said, handing her bag over. 

“What’s in this? A balloon and a cloud?” he said, evidently surprised at the bag’s weight - or lack thereof. Lu let out a huff of a laugh, crossing her arms and refusing to take the bag back. If he offered to carry it, he was going to carry it, no matter how silly it was. 

“And some gauze.” she said. “Just in case.”

“Oh, right, just in case.” he mimicked. He flipped open the top of her bag, exposing its measly contents. Her smile immediately fell, and she shot her hand out to try and grab it back.

“Barnes!” she said, flustered as he moved out of her way so that her hand only grasped air. All she got from him was a hoot of laughter. He pulled her book out of its depths, making her eyes go wide and her heart skip a beat. “You’re not supposed to look in a lady’s purse! Give it back!” 

“What’s this?” he asked instead, not acknowledging her statement. She tried to grab her book from him before he could open it, becoming increasingly panicked. He easily fended her off, opening the book to a random page. “ _ She succumbed to the eternal feminine passion -  _ Doc, what kind of saucy novel is this?!” 

“It’s not - you just - that sentence is out of context!” she said, flustered. She was finally able to grab the book from him, slamming it shut and smacking him hard on the arm with it.

“Ow! My bullet wound!” he said, even though her assault was not towards his injured arm.

“Bull shit! Your wound is on the other arm!” she said, hitting him again for good measure. He made a shocked face at her swear before he continued laughing, which was exactly the opposite effect she was hoping for. She snatched her bag back from him, holding it protectively to her chest. He held up his hands, conceding to her.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” he said, though his apology felt less sincere since he was somehow  _ still laughing _ . “No need to be ashamed, Doc. We’re all human.”

“I’m not  _ ashamed _ .” she said sharply, though she could feel how bright red her cheeks were. She suddenly felt like she was sweating beneath her uniform. “I’m  _ annoyed _ . You, sir, have walked me far enough.” 

That goddamn smile. “I’ll see you later, Doc.”

“Not a doctor, Sergeant.” she said through clenched teeth, still seething and embarrassed from the interaction. No one had made her feel this emotional in a long time. It really,  _ really _ pissed her off.

“Barely a Sergeant, Doc.” he said, putting both his hands back in his pockets and walking backwards. “Be safe on the road.”

“Watch yourself.” she said, which was probably the nicest thing that she could come up with at that moment. All she wanted was to leave this interaction so she could hide her shame and not have to stare at his stupid, smiling, handsome face. He turned on his heel, actually taking a skip step before absolutely  _ sauntering _ away. Ugh. He was so maddening. 

Lu walked with a purpose all the way to the front of the line, feeling like everyone was eyeing her even though she knew that they weren’t. Moving camp didn’t allow anyone to notice anything extra going on around them. But she still held her breath until she made it onto the back of the truck, finally letting it go once she collapsed onto the bench next to Angela.

“You okay?” she asked, her doe eyes wide and blinking in concern. Dammit, her cheeks must be redder than she originally thought.

“Yea, yea I’m fine.” she said, her voice tight. “Soldiers are just insufferable sometimes.”

“Well, you’ve always got your girls.” Angela said, reaching over and lightly patting her hand. Before Lu could answer, the engine kicked on, its volume making conversation impossible. She settled back into her seat, trying to push down the feelings again. She couldn’t let Barnes see that he had an effect on her. That would mean he won, and she would not allow that. 

They had a long drive ahead of them. Surely it would be enough time for her to put up the calm, cool exterior again.


	8. Knew - June 10, 2014

**Chapter 8: Knew**

**June 10, 2014**

The breeze was blowing, the sun was shining, and Steve thought that he should probably feel happier than he did right now. After all, he was still alive, and turns out his best friend since childhood was as well. Unfortunately, he was a (hopefully former) brainwashed assassin for a rogue Nazi organization, but Steve could see the look in his eyes and the change in his face whenever whatever hold they had on him started to break loose. And he was confident that, if he could just find him, he could bring him back. He was probably the only one who could. 

Sam shifted next to him as Fury walked away, already antsy to get on with the chase. Steve couldn’t help but smile; he’d known so many soldiers like that, unable to sit still once they had a mission in front of them. Hell, he was even like that himself, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t impatient to get moving. They’d already lost a lot of time while he was recovering in the hospital - if they were going to catch up with Bucky, they needed to get going as soon as possible. 

A twig snapped, getting their attention. Natasha, always put together, walked up to them with all the confidence of someone who helped save the world a few days prior, and all the nonchalance of someone who’d done it before. “You should be honored, that’s about as close as he gets to saying ‘thank you’.” she said, making him grin.

“Not going with him?” he asked, genuinely curious even though his main concern was the file in her hand. 

“No.” she said strongly, drawing the word out to accentuate her point. That certainly surprised him; as far as he knew, Fury was the only person Natasha trusted. But her one word implied that she still had plans, even if they weren’t with Fury.

“Not staying here.” It was supposed to be a question, but it came out more as a statement. Something was going on in that head of hers, something that only she would be privy to. He wondered what it was. 

“I blew all my covers, I gotta go figure out who I am now.” she said, showing a rare, poetic side to herself. He’d been hoping to convince her to join him and Sam (even if he technically hadn’t asked Sam to go yet), but now he could see it wasn’t even worth it to ask.

“Might take a while.” he said. He knew that for sure - after all, he’d been asleep for seventy years, and had spent the last two trying to figure out who he was, and how he fit into this new world. A pang of guilt went through him as he remembered Bucky, and how he’d been alive all this time too. How different would life have been if he’d known this as soon as he got out of the ice?

“I’m counting on it.” she said in the same tone that always made it sound like she meant something different. She moved just slightly, but he knew her well enough now to know she was changing the conversation, steering it away from her. “That thing you asked for -” she grabbed the file from under her arm, “-I called in a few favors from Kiev.” She handed the file to him, the weight of it no doubt the heaviest thing he’d had to lift since he got the serum. Here was all the information he was going to get to track down his best friend. Did he even want to know about the horrors he’d faced the past seventy years? “Will you do me a favor? Call that nurse?” The request threw him for a loop, pulling him out of the dark hole he was quickly digging. Perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing - though the suggestion was definitely a bad idea.

“She’s not a nurse.” he said with a smirk, the vision of “Kate” coming into his apartment with her weapon still very fresh in his mind. Thanks to his recent near-death experience, the sting of her betrayal had faded, and he found he could no longer be upset with her about doing her job. Didn’t mean he was going to call her, though.

“And you’re not a SHIELD agent.” Natasha replied, and Steve could hear Sam snort behind him. God, she really was always multitasking, wasn’t she?

“What was her name again?” he asked, really out of politeness. But at least the question might distract Natasha long enough that she wouldn’t pressure him to promise.

“Sharon. She’s nice.” she replied, her voice gentle in a way that didn’t happen often. Then, as if she could read his mind, her expression shifted. It was so subtle he almost didn’t notice it, but spending so much time with her recently made it easier to see. He didn’t know how he didn’t see it all before. She pulled him close and kissed his cheek, and it was a familiar and friendly gesture to him even if it wasn’t part of their friendship before. A brief moment where she let her true feelings show. She turned to leave, but didn’t make it more than a few steps before she added, “Be careful, Steve. Might not want to pull on that thread.”

He knew she was right, and was unable to come up with any sort of response for her. This was likely to be the hardest thing he’d have to face in his new life, and had a very low chance of success. But he had to try. He could tell she understood that, but he wasn’t going to try and defend anything. He flipped open the file and was immediately met with a large, grainy photo of Bucky in a cryo chamber, his eyes closed and face relaxed as if he were simply asleep. Steve had been accidentally thrown into the ice, and it was the only way he survived; Bucky had been forced into it, the scientists actively choosing it as a way to preserve him. How had they given him the serum, when the formula died with Erskine?

“You’re going after him.” Sam said, appearing by his side. Steve almost wanted to laugh, thinking that Sam was simply verbalizing what they’d both known this whole time. 

“You don’t have to come with me.” Steve replied. He actually meant it. He knew this mission would be dangerous, and miserable, and they were probably only going to find painful stories and dead ends. He wasn’t going to ask him to go through that.

“I know.” he said resolutely. There was no room for argument. “When do we start?” 

Steve ran his eyes over the page in front of him, but it only gave him the most basic information - demographics, vital signs, all the details that wouldn’t help. The word  _ winter _ was scribbled in Russian at the bottom of the picture. “As soon as we get through this and find a place to start.” he said, gesturing to the file. He flipped to the next section, and his blood went cold as a different face stared at him. She was also in an ice box, but instead of appearing asleep, her face was just slightly tight, as if she were in pain. Underneath her picture, there was another handwritten word -  _ summer _ . He almost dropped the papers, his hands numb with panic.

“Who the hell is  _ that _ ?” Sam asked, and Steve couldn’t tell if he was shocked that more than one Soldier was made, or if he was taken aback by the fact it was a woman. Steve racked his brain, trying to remember those final moments before the helicarrier collapsed; had he seen her anywhere? Had he seen her prior? Was she at the apartment, or the causeway? But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t picture her in his mind.

“Doc.” he said, his throat thick. God dammit, how could he fail  _ both _ of them? 

“Doc, like, that girl that’s in the museum too? The one with Barnes?” he asked, this time allowing a bit of incredulity into his tone. 

“She went down after him.” Steve said. He felt like he couldn’t breath. “When he fell, she told us to keep going, that she would go after him. And she never came back.”

“And they did it to her too.” Sam filled in the blanks, letting out a sigh. “This just got twice as hard, huh?”

“At least.” he admitted. They’d been a good team, prior to that fateful day. Lu was smart, and observant, and stubborn as a mule. She’d put up with all sorts of Army guys and brought them to their knees. And if the serum amplified qualities in the same way it had with Steve...things just got a whole lot more complicated. “I can’t believe she’s still alive too.”

“She may not be.” Sam said gently, and Steve knew he meant literally, not mentally, as Bucky had been when he first saw him. And even if his world was currently shaken, Steve couldn’t help but let out a huff of a laugh.

“You don’t know Doc. She’d outlive Buck on spite alone.” he said. When he woke up in this century and found out what happened to Lu, he’d rested on the idea that at least she and Bucky were together. And now that he knew that she was still alive, the sentiment still rang true. Her loyalty was probably compounded as well; even with everything they’d been through, she still refused to leave Bucky. 

“Well come on then. Let’s get to work.” Sam said, clapping him on the shoulder. He was right: they weren’t going to get anything done if they didn’t get started.

… 

It should be easy for them to stay out of sight, to stay hidden. 

But for a week, Summer and Winter not only had to deal with their memories appearing and disappearing, or their minds occasionally short circuiting and shutting down for a moment, but also with the fact that Hydra no doubt knew they’d gone rogue. It was no longer just about walking away, but about survival. They didn’t have the luxury of a home base to return to, but instead were going to have to make their way in a world they hadn’t been a part of for nearly seventy years. 

Getting the information from the computers at the old bunker hadn’t been a challenge, but finding a computer where they could read it was another story. Technology was not their forte, but they were informed enough to know that there was likely a tracking beacon on at least the thumb drive, if not woven into the files themselves. Someone somewhere got the signal from the computer in the base, so they had to move as far from it as possible. The only good thing about their flight was that Hydra could not predict their next move, because even they had no idea where they were going next. 

Hydra bases were stationed in wide, open places, and localized mostly to the north. Heavy snow and fickle terrain discouraged hikers from getting too close, and trees and mountains dampened any suspicious noises that may escape. The north was practically designed for secret Nazi bases. And, as such, Summer and Winter chose to head south, betting that their superiors would assume they would return to familiar areas. The commanding officer did not know that their programming was slipping, that every day they could feel the rust shake a little more from their brains. They took long, winding roads, easily stealing cars and leaving them in pristine condition approximately two hundred miles away. The further south they went, the hotter it got, and soon they had to discard their layers just to prevent dehydration. It left them feeling exposed, but at least they were alive.

Without the conditioning present in their minds, all sorts of sensory information started to bother them. They felt heat on their skin through the windows of the cars, and the itch of the kevlar body armor. Smells from the farms they passed threaten to overwhelm every other thought. The food they stole was always too salty, or too sweet, or too bitter. It turns out, when the serum enhanced their vision and hearing and reaction time, it enhanced their other senses as well. And any time they stepped out of the shadows, the input was overwhelming. 

The thumb drive sat in the cup holder between them, taunting them with all the secrets they couldn’t access. They had to choose their spot wisely, knowing that as soon as they plugged the drive in, the clock would start ticking. A public library or university was out of the question as they didn’t want to lead Hydra to civilians. Breaking into someone’s home would have the same outcome. So, the best alternative was to steal a laptop. Both of them were very aware that, at one point in their life, they would have considered stealing morally wrong. But after living as weapons for the past however many decades, stealing a computer was at the bottom of their list of sins. So they watched and waited, and when they spotted a person outside a cafe get up and go back inside to get a drink, Summer took that opportunity to strike. A quick snap of the laptop, a slide underneath her jacket, and she was on her way to the next stolen car. She didn’t remember when exactly she learned that no one suspected the pretty, young blonde to be a thief, but it was a lesson that she knew well. 

The hardest part was the wait. They had to be sure they were far away from any WiFi or cellular signals, as that would give them more time before the beacon reached their pursuers. So they drove, and they drove, and they changed cars, and they drove some more, until they were at a perfect point between two small towns, somewhere in West Virginia. Winter pulled the car over at a crossroads and Summer pulled out the laptop, not hesitating to plug in the drive. He eyed the clock as she opened it; they had approximately twenty minutes before they had to go. She began scanning the documents as quickly as her brain would take in the information, memorizing the important facts (names, dates, locations) and forgetting things that were not (asides from the scientists, data points). After ten minutes, Winter signalled to her with a flick of his hand, and she gave the laptop over. She sat while he read, taking slow, measured breaths and repeating the information she’d just consumed. Who knew when they would have another opportunity to access it?

When the twenty minutes was up, Winter pulled out the drive and tossed it back into the cupholder before opening the door. One step and one throw, and his metal arm sent the laptop flying through the sky and into a field of corn. That would take any agents a while to locate. He got back in the car and turned it at a sharp angle, taking one of the crossroads opposite to where they were going previously. The old pickup truck protested at first, the gravel of the road making its tires skid, but it soon gave in and did what they wanted, driving off into the night. They were the only ones on the road for a long while, Summer keeping her eyes on the map while Winter kept his on the horizon. They only met one other pair of headlights; the small SUV didn’t match the cars usually seen around the bunkers, but of course that meant nothing. Summer ducked down so Winter was the only one visible, and when they passed the other car, she gave him options for other turns that were sure to lead anyone following them astray. It added an hour to their drive to nowhere, but they had to be certain. 

They passed the state line into Virginia just as the sun was peeking over the horizon. Summer looked out the window as she drove, waiting to recognize anything, but all she got was the vague sense of familiarity that she got whenever she looked at old pictures of Winter. However, while the pictures made something stir behind her sternum, the landscape here held no such sentiment. 

The sign for Hemmingsburg was so small and nondescript that without her enhanced senses, she probably would have missed it. But according to the documents, Hemmingsburg was where she - or at least, Lucille Peters - was born and lived for eighteen years. Logically, it was a bad idea to stop here. If Hydra knew what information they took - and she could almost guarantee that they did - then they would look up possible important places. They probably put sentries here and in Brooklyn. But Summer and Winter walked away ten days prior, and Hydra very rarely stretched resources for that long. Perhaps, for the first time in years, they would get lucky.

She pulled off at the exit, turning onto the small, two lane highway that would take them into town. Winter gave her a look out of the corner of his eyes, trying to figure out her play. “Home?” he finally asked, putting the pieces together. The word didn’t seem to fit in her mind.

“Place of birth.” she responded. That seemed more accurate. “Might have information.”

“Might be under surveillance.” he said, a slight tint to his voice. She couldn’t quite identify if it was sarcasm or a warning.

“Definitely under surveillance.” she acknowledged. If he ordered her to turn around and continue south, she would. But instead, he settled further into the seat, and joined her in assessing their surroundings. 

The town of Hemmingsburg, Virginia, boasted a population of one hundred and seventy-six people. The town limits were approximately twenty square miles of sprawling farmland, with old plantation houses proudly spotting the green hills. The town square was not a square, but in fact one long main road that started with the post office and ended with an old church, the next few acres taken up by the cemetery. The buildings in between looked like they had once undergone renovation, but were in desperate need of another one. It took a few passes before they found the local library, which apparently tripled as the high school and the county offices. Summer stayed in the car as Winter went inside, both of them agreeing that despite the low probability they needed to be sure she wasn’t recognized. 

It was easy for him to sneak in, likely thanks to the old front desk lady’s coke bottle glasses and the hearing aids that had at least one low battery, if that high whining meant anything. The county clerk’s office, which was less of an office and more of a room full of filing cabinets, was completely devoid of any other living beings. It was just Winter and the records of all the people who’d been there before him. The file belonging to the Peters was thin and discolored with age, the spine creaking as he opened it. Names he did not recognize were on every page, and he quickly flipped through them before finally finding one that he knew -  _ Lucille Elizabeth Peters _ . The birth and death dates matched those they saw in the museum, and the death certificate was Army issued, the cause of death only listed as  _ MIA _ . Interestingly enough, a cemetery plot was also listed. When he checked her parents’ death certificates, he saw that hers was right next to theirs. Their home was sold after their death since they had no other children to leave it to, and the name of the purchaser meant even less to him than the others that came before it. He snapped the folder closed and returned it exactly as he found it, wincing when the drawer squeaked as it slid shut. He exited just as he’d entered: undetected.

Summer was right where he left her, sitting low in the car. Her green eyes pierced into him as he sat in the passenger seat, clearly hungry for information. “Her parents are dead.” he said. For some reason, he felt that would be the hardest truth to present her. But she simply shrugged.

“I figured as much.” she replied, not commenting on how he said  _ her _ and not  _ your _ . They still did not completely believe that they were Bucky Barnes and Lucille Peters, no matter what the evidence said. 

“They’re buried over there. There’s a grave for Lucille too.” he said. There was a pregnant pause as he waited for her to decide if she wanted to go; it was not in his nature to ask. She blinked a few times before slowly nodding. 

“Perhaps it will give me a memory.” she said. It was a weak excuse, but she had no other, and he did not criticise her as she drove the car into the sprawling cemetery. With a quick stop at the site map, it was easy to locate their intended graves. Three matching marble headstones sat all in a row, the last things to speak the names of Robert, Helen, and Lucille Peters. Nearby, an old groundskeeper slowly removed weeds growing over a different plot. She stopped the car in front; the headstones were clean, but otherwise had no signs of acknowledgement. Summer hesitated for just a moment before getting out of the car, stepping up to the grave sites to see if proximity would give her anything. She kept reading over the names, feeling like she was just on the verge of remembering something. The name  _ Robert _ made a vague sense of anger and anxiety, but not much else. She kept chastising herself and commanding her brain to  _ remember _ , but it wouldn’t come.

_ You’d do well to remember your place _ .

“Did ya know them?” the smooth southern drawl from the old groundskeeper startled her almost as much as the voice echoing in her head. She stared at him for a moment, waiting for the recognition or the fear to set in, but he was just leaning against his shovel and giving her a curious look.

“No.” she said, the reply not a complete lie. She had no memories of them and few of herself, though the longer she looked at the man the more she felt like she had seen him before. Her muscles started to tighten at the thought, her mind racing as she tried to place him and worrying that she was going to see him in a lab coat. He nodded at the last gravestone - Lucille’s.

“I used to know her, back in the day.” he said. The look on his face said that he was no longer standing with her here in the cemetery, but instead in his memory. A fond smile was on his face. “Was even supposed to marry her someday. Was pretty heartbroken when she never came back from the War.”

“I’m sorry.” Summer said.  _ That _ was a lie. She just knew, somewhere deep inside, that it was the right thing to say. He shrugged, and she could hear his joints crack with the movement. 

“It was a long time ago.” he said wistfully. She wondered how he remembered this woman so well that he could still miss her after all this time. The museum said Lucille left at eighteen and never looked back; was it something to do with this man? He shook himself out of his reverie, offering her a gnarled hand. “Where are my manners? My name is George. Thank you for visiting some of my residents.”

She looked at his hand warily before taking it, making sure to keep her grip soft so she didn’t accidentally fracture his bones. “Summer.” she replied, the only name that she knew besides Soldier. He didn’t flinch at the name or show any sign of recognition, he just looked down at the headstone again.

“You look kinda like her, ya know.” he said, making her blood run cold. She needed to leave, and fast. “Probably just the blonde hair. Ya know, I was kinda hopin’ you were gonna tell me you were some long-lost granddaughter.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint.” she said, taking care to remove the bite from her voice. It felt like something she’d said before, many times. He just shrugged his shoulders again.

“Old hopes from an old man.” he said. He nodded once, standing up straight and picking up his shovel. “Well, I’m sorry to intrude, Summer. You have a good one now, y’hear?” 

“Yes, sir.” she said, though when she said it to George instead of Winter her voice seemed to have the slightest twang to it. Likely it was just her brain latching onto his accent, a subconscious attempt to blend into her surroundings. George gave her a toothy smile before turning and teetering back to where he was working before, none the wiser of who he was speaking to. Summer simply got back in the car, an emotion she couldn’t define gripping her heart.

“Anything?” he said, using just the one word to find out if she’d had any revelations or if George knew who she was. His smile had brought out the vaguest memory, of a young man grinning and holding a ring in a velvet box. 

“Barely.” she replied, fingering the chunk of blonde hair that fell over her shoulder. It was very long, falling nearly to her waist. It was too bright, too identifiable. “Let’s go.”

Winter didn’t need to be told twice, turning so they could leave Hemmingsburg and the grave of Lucille Peters behind them. Summer requested they stop at a truck stop, allowing him to obtain the food while she took something else, going into the separate building that housed the bathrooms. Luckily it was empty, but she locked the door anyway, not wanting to be interrupted. If Winter needed her, he could easily break down the door. 

The spotted mirror gave her a clear enough image of herself, her eyes bright even in the dim, fluorescent light. She removed her baseball cap, spotting the sharp line where it had sat on her hair for too long. The blonde glowed like a halo, and she remembered one of the lab coats calling her  _ an angel of death _ . With quick, decisive motions, she gathered her hair in one hand and her sharpest knife in the other, sawing through it until the waves fell just below her shoulders. She got the hair dye and the gloves out of the cardboard box, carefully applying the dark, smelly substance until it covered her hair completely. The box told her to wait for ten minutes; it felt roughly like ten hours. That was another thing she noticed: the longer she spent out of the ice box, the more impatient she felt - about  _ everything _ . She wondered if Winter felt the same, but didn’t dare to ask. 

It wasn’t easy to rinse her hair in the sink, but she managed, and was rewarded with dark, wet waves around her face. The dye wouldn’t last, she knew that. But it would hide her for long enough to get someplace safe. She didn’t wait for her hair to dry, instead just squeezing as much water as she could with paper towels before going back to the car. Winter stared at her for a long moment, and she waited for the judgement, or a scathing remark.

“Looks good.” he said, putting the car in drive. The sun was getting low, soon it would be her turn to sleep.

“Thanks.” she said, the conversation surprising both of them. She hadn’t realized how much he wanted his approval until the statement let her relax with relief. She caught a glimpse of herself in the side mirror, at first not recognizing her own reflection. Good, if she could barely recognize herself, then hopefully Hydra would have difficulty recognizing her too. Then maybe they could continue on this little quest. 

She knew no one ever suspected the pretty, young blonde. She hoped no one would suspect the pretty, young brunette either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank y'all for reading!!! i'm curious - who would you cast as summer?? i know who i picture, but i want to know what y'all think!


	9. Point - July 30, 1943

**Chapter 9: Point**

**July 30, 1943**

Lu thought that travelling across northern Italy had the potential to be beautiful and borderline romantic - not that she was really searching for romance of any kind. But the aesthetic was nice, especially when partnered with her secret guilty pleasure of happy-ending amatory novels. It turns out that northern Italy was absolutely covered with mountains, which meant ever changing temperature conditions, dangerous trails, and slow going. They were able to drop off their more critical patients at a fort somewhere before all the mountains started, but she was still busy treating head colds and sprained ankles and one case of a dislocated shoulder after a soldier slipped and fell on an outstretched hand. 

And of course, Barnes found a way to bother her as often as possible. 

They finally got a break as they entered a small town in the valley, the higher points overlooking a lake. She didn’t understand the name of the place, or the name of the lake, but she did understand that the residents were just nice enough to give them some space for a night so they could rest. Normally she was okay with the constant moving - after all, she did enlist in the military voluntarily - but the chill from the mountains seemed to stick to her, even as the warmth of the valley engulfed them. 

An extra room in the local church became their makeshift hospital, allowing them to unpack just enough supplies to truly treat those that were ailing. Most of the patients were able to walk in and walk out, their treatment plan including rest, fluids, and staying warm and out of the wet. Their cache of antibiotics was lower than she would have liked; the other nurses seemed willing to give them out, but she tried to come up with any other approach in order to save their stores. She didn’t know what was waiting for them in Azzano, but she had a bad feeling about it. Really she had a bad feeling about this whole trek, but she kept that to herself.

Which was how she found herself pestering local residents with hand gestures and sound effects in an effort to find a beekeeper. The town was big enough to have a church, a bar, and a brothel, but apparently not big enough for a local market. It took her the entire morning to (hopefully) get the information she was looking for, and after a brief lunch of bread and ham and wine, she set off down the road to find something to supplement their supplies. 

“Defecting already?” Barnes asked, bounding down the steps of the apartments where some soldiers were staying and joining her as she walked. She didn’t know how he managed to run across her so often, but if she was honest, she didn’t mind it. Barnes was one of the few men in the unit that she somewhat trusted, even if he was determined to flirt with her all the time.

“I’ve just decided I’m going to stay here. More my pace.” she said, crossing her arms over her chest as a light breeze danced over them. She knew that the chills were not a good sign, but she didn’t have time to acknowledge them right now. The basket a nice older woman had let her borrow bounced against her hip as she continued at her pace. In a very gentlemanly way, he snorted at her statement.

“Oh yes, you seem completely like the small country town type.” he replied, his voice dripping in sarcasm. She tossed her head back, trying to look as haughty as possible. 

“I am every bit the southern belle my mother raised me to be.” she said, allowing a bit of a twang to color her tone like the traditional southerners back in America. He perked an eyebrow at that, giving her a long look before finally speaking.

“You were so good at that I’m wondering if you’re actually serious.” he said, making her grin. He was a smart cookie, she’d give him that, which made it all the more fun to mess with him.

“Guess you’ll never know.” she said lightly, dropping the accent she’d worked so hard to get rid of. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, easily matching her stride as she walked out of the town. In the distance she could see the little house with the roses in front, where she hoped the bees and their keeper lived. 

“You’re just an enigma, aren’t you?” he asked dryly. “C’mon, Doc, where’re you from?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m not going back.” she replied. She didn’t want to think about her home town, or the people she’d left behind. She’d moved on to other things. He let out a low whistle.

“That great, huh?” he said. “Well if it makes you feel better, I was born in a small town in Indiana. Thank God my parents decided to move to Brooklyn before I was out of the single digit ages. Made me the man I am today.”

“Perhaps you should’ve stayed in Indiana then.” she remarked, and this time he actually laughed. 

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” he asked rhetorically. She didn’t answer, instead just giving him a look out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t mean to feel proud of her comeback, but she was all the same. “With that attitude, I bet you’re from Jersey City.”

“Not even close.” she said. She wasn’t going to answer his question, but she didn’t mind him trying to guess. She’d be way more surprised if he said it than if he didn’t.

“No? What about Queens? Complete opposite side.” he said.

“What makes you think I’m from New York?” she countered, trying to delicately hide a cough. The United States was big, and they were likely to be done with the war before Barnes actually found the answer. She turned up the driveway towards the rose bushes, already seeing the bees buzzing around the bright red flowers. 

“Cause of the attitude, of course.” he said, pulling a small, makeshift handkerchief out of his pocket and giving it to her. She took it with a nod of thanks, muffling her cough with it and sliding it into her pocket. “And how stubborn you are. By the way, why are we here?”

“We need more antibiotics.” she said, gesturing to the bees.

“Not following, Doc.” he said impatiently. She could see the gentle shift in his stance as he realized they were in unfamiliar territory, making him seem taller and more alert. He placed himself just slightly ahead of her at the door, like he wanted to be between her and whoever was inside. Based on the way he moved, she didn’t think he did any of this consciously. 

“Honey. It’s a remedy for germs so we don’t waste the medicine on colds.” she replied, knocking on the door. She didn’t know how exactly she was going to make this transaction when she knew zero Italian, but she had money in her pocket and a fair talent at charades. They heard footsteps inside, and the door opened to reveal an older woman. Her long grey hair was organized into a neat braid, and she stared at them with sharp brown eyes. She said something in Italian, her suspicious gaze shifting between the two of them, and Lu was just about to open her mouth and begin her game when Barnes spoke.

“Buon pomeriggio,” he said with a respectful smile, continuing on in the language she couldn’t understand. She couldn’t stop the look of utter shock on her face, staring at Barnes like he’d grown another head. Even though she could tell that his Italian was broken at best, and it was sprinkled with English now and then, it was still infinitely more than she’d anticipated. The woman’s demeanor changed immediately, and her smile was bright as she chattered away. Lu had no idea what was going on in the conversation - which made her nervous - but she smiled and nodded along when the woman looked to her. She waved for them to come into her house, which was small but quaint, organized perfectly for someone living by themselves. There were small things about that said she didn’t always live alone, but even if Lu knew enough Italian to talk to her, she wouldn’t ask about the probably newly-passed spouse. 

She led them into the kitchen, which was clean and warm and smelled of freshly baked bread. On the stove, a large pot simmered, the lid sealing away whatever was happily cooking. Along the window, sunlight filtered through jars of honey, all golden and lined up so they filled the entire ledge. She was still talking to Barnes like a long lost grandchild, pulling a few of the jars from their perch. Lu pulled out what money she had, holding it out in her palm so that the woman could take what she needed. She half expected her to simply grab everything there, but she simply plucked a few of the coins away without breaking her conversation. She helped deposit the jars in Lu’s basket, but surprised her by taking the basket away and setting it on the tall table in the kitchen. Lu, in her shock, allowed her to do it, not wanting to risk offending her and losing the treasured remedy. 

“She wants us to have lunch with her.” Barnes said, quickly switching back to English for a moment. Lu blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what he was saying. 

“Why?” she asked. She didn’t think a secluded Italian woman would be so welcoming to the American soldiers passing through. She knew if the roles were reversed, she probably would not have even opened the door. Barnes shrugged.

“She said her son never comes to visit. Guess she just likes me.” he said. The woman - whose name was Marta - ushered them to their chairs and immediately started laying out plates and napkins. She filled glasses with wine and brought out something wrapped in a towel, which turned out to be a wide loaf of bread. 

“Focaccia.” she named it, when Lu looked rather confused. She’d not seen bread like this before. Marta held up her hands, gesturing for them to wait, and went and brought a small crock from the ice box. When she took the lid off, they could immediately smell garlic and basil. “Pesto.” she said, breaking off a chunk of bread and spooning some of the green stuff from the crock onto it. She ate it with a flourish, humming loudly so that Lu and Barnes would understand how delicious it was. Lu followed her lead, putting some of the pesto onto the bread and taking a bite. The flavors exploded in her mouth, the herbs and garlic and olive oil and parmesan coming together in a way she’d never experienced. She could feel how wide her eyes were as she looked between Barnes and Marta, wondering if they were having the same revelation that she was. Marta looked proud of herself, whereas Barnes was just looking at her with a shit eating grin.

“This is amazing.” Lu said, not realizing that her mouth was still full. She quickly chewed and swallowed. “Tell her. Tell her that it’s amazing.” 

Barnes paused for a second before figuring out a way to roughly translate. Marta literally clasped her hands at her heart, and started speaking at an incredible speed, going back to the ice box. Lu looked to Barnes for clarification, but he simply shrugged in response; it seemed she was speaking too fast for him to understand. Marta produced another container, this one smaller, and filled it with some of the pesto. She added it to Lu’s basket, along with another loaf of focaccia wrapped in a clean towel. Lu fished into her pocket to try and retrieve her coins, but Marta stayed her hand, waving her away. She said something, pinching Lu’s arm and making Barnes laugh before she gestured for them to continue eating. This time when Lu looked to him, Barnes said, “She said you’re too skinny.” 

“If that leads her to send more food back with us, I’ll take it.” she said. She knew she’d lost weight ever since joining up; part of it was from the exercise, all the energy she burned running around the hospital and taking care of patients for hours on end. Another part was the whole barely sleeping thing, which seemed to sap away her appetite. But the simple pesto and bread seemed to breathe new life into her, reminding her how good food could be. 

They didn’t mean to spend so long at Marta’s, but they eventually left with their honey and their other goods. They both agreed that Lu should hide their spoils; the men in the barracks would sniff them out and steal them immediately. In the nurses’ hall, she would just have to bribe Angie with a bit of it, and she’d keep it quiet. 

“Where did you learn Italian?” she asked as they finally started the walk back to town. Now that she was full, she was ready to rest. 

“Made a lot of friends in Little Italy. It’s hard to have a respectful conversation though, they mostly taught me the bad stuff.” he said. He was nonchalant, as if basic knowledge of another language was commonplace. Lu wondered how much he’d picked up on the streets of New York, and also lamented her own secluded upbringing that left her with just the knowledge of English and the basics of sign language, which was taught to her by an old friend that had since died. After enlisting, they taught the nurses enough German to be dangerous, but left it at that.

“And you say  _ I’m _ the enigma.” she said with a grin. He looked rather pleased with himself at that.

“You know, I believe some of the men are planning to go dancing at that bar tonight. Would you care to join me?” Barnes asked, switching topics drastically. His tone was as light and airy as the warm summer breeze, but the whiplash from it still made Lu take in a breath so sharp that she started coughing. He laughed at her response, shaking his head. “Geeze, Doc, I know you’re a hardass and all, but it’s just a simple question. No strings attached.”

“No, no it’s not-” she blushed furiously, embarrassed only because he  _ thought _ she was embarrassed. “I don’t have a problem turning down soldiers.” she finally got the words out, her chest still tight. 

“Ouch.” he replied, holding a hand to his heart. “So you think I’m just another nameless, faceless suitor chasing after your heart? I’m trying to be your friend here, Doc.”

“You’re not - ugh! You’re so infuriating!” she said, the exclamation sending her into another spell of coughing, this one coming from deep in her lungs. Dammit, so everything was knocked loose now. Stupid Barnes with his stupid date invitations, making her sick. It certainly wasn’t the exhaustion or exposure, that’s for sure. He didn’t change his pace, slipping off his jacket and laying it over her shoulders without asking or letting her say no to it. And she wanted to say no, despite the fact that the sun setting was cooling the air quickly and making her chills worse.

“Perhaps you should dip into that honey yourself before you start handing it out.” he suggested, making her shake her head.

“The patients come first.” she said, the mantra ingrained in her from the first day of nursing school.  _ Everything you do, you do for your patient. And you do whatever it takes. _ Well, she’d certainly taken that to heart, hadn’t she? “Speaking of which, you should probably put some of it on your wound. To keep the infection away.”

“Oh, this old thing? It’s fine. I’ll be right as rain by the end of the week.” he said, moving his arm around to prove his point. Little did he know that her discerning eyes could see when his shoulder caught at a particular position, showing that he was still hurting. 

“My statement still stands.” she said. She felt the need to cough again, but kept swallowing until she was able to suppress it. He let out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head.

“Whatever you say, Doc.” he said. 

“Not a doctor, Barnes.” she deadpanned. But it seemed no matter how many times she told him that, he didn’t get it.

“Barely a - wait a minute.” he wasn’t ready for her to flip the script a little bit. She smiled, once again feeling a sense of pride. 

“Barely a Barnes?” she asked, trying to keep her giggles in. Laughter would lead to more coughing, and she needed to keep the attention on him. 

“Ya got me there, Doc. Well played.” he admitted, though he didn’t seem offended by the slight. Barnes was easy going, and Lu found she really liked that about him. “You still haven’t given me an answer though.”

“Well, as you so astutely observed, I’m a bit under the weather. So I should probably stay in tonight.” she said. It wasn’t technically a lie; after all, they were going to be back on the road the following day, and if she was going to keep this cold from settling in then she needed to rest. 

“Uh huh. Convenient.” he said, but he didn’t push her further. He walked her to the doors of the church, tilting his head towards her. “Feel better, Doc.”

“Thank you. Have fun tonight.” she said, ducking into the doors before he could say anything else. In the dark of the church, her exhaustion finally hit, and she dropped the honey off with the nurses on duty before going into the back room to her cot. Angela was still on shift, and while Lu loved the girl dearly, she was glad that she could just lay down and not have to talk or answer any questions. It was certainly too early to turn in for the evening, but it wasn’t too early for her to lay down and take a few precious minutes to read. Of course, that led to her falling asleep, but that was neither her intention nor the point. 

She woke later to find that the sun had set long ago and all the free nurses had gone on to the bar. The room was blissfully empty and quiet, allowing her to take a few deep breaths in complete solace. These moments were hard to come by in this life, and she treasured every one that she got. Her chest still felt tight, but when she finally coughed it wasn’t as terrible as it had been earlier. She was by no means healed, but at least she was on the up-and-up. 

Footsteps echoed down the hallway leading to the room, and as they drew closer she knew in her bones who it would be. Sure enough, Barnes knocked on the door and pushed his way in, giving her a sheepish smile and suspiciously holding something in his coat. Even though his steps were sure and balanced, his cheeks were a little red, and his eyes a little glassy.

“You’re drunk.” she stated, her voice sounding wispy as she tried to use it. He pointed at her, his mind moving a little slower as he conjured up a comeback.

“You’re right.” he said, dropping his hand. Without waiting for an invitation, he came and sat down on the cot next to hers. His movements were slow and careful, both from the drink and from whatever he was trying to hold onto in his coat. Lu pushed herself up so she was sitting on the edge of her cot, leaving a respectable few inches between their knees.

“What are you hiding?” she asked, gesturing towards his coat. “Please don’t tell me it’s an animal.”

“No, no it’s not.” he said lightly, getting his thoughts a little more in order. He seemed glad that she’d noticed he had something. “Did I ever tell you about my friend Steve?”

“You’ve mentioned him.” she said, trying to hide her grin. He talked about Steve more often than he probably realized, his own coping mechanism for missing home. Every soldier had one, and Steve was his. 

“So Steve, this punk,” he began, as he did most times he talked about him. “has all the heart in the world, right? Well I mean, that’s what probably caused the high blood pressure and palpitations and all that but - beside the point.”

“Oh, you’ve got a point?” she questioned, tilting her head to the side. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, wagging a finger at her.

“Hush now, you.” he said. He paused, blinking as he tried to find his train of thought again. “Where was I? Oh, right. So Steve got sick all the time. Like, all the time. Had lungs like a chihuahua.”

“Are chihuahuas known for having poor pulmonary function?” she interrupted again, enjoying how flustered it got him. He groaned in frustration, shifting on the cot and remembering a second later that he was supposed to be keeping something steady. No sounds echoed from his jacket, which calmed her nerves a bit; she didn’t trust him when he said it wasn’t an animal, but surely it it was, it would have made a noise by now.

“Do you want your present or not?” he asked, his cheeks a little extra flushed. 

“Right, right, sorry. Continue.” she said, finding that she was actually rather curious about what he brought her. His blush receded a bit.

“Thank you. So Ma Rogers, she was a nurse, right? Just like you. ‘Course, the tuberculosis got her in the end but - anyway, it reminded me earlier, when we went to go visit Marta, that when Steve was sick and needed to sleep, she always made him this.” he carefully pulled out a glass that he definitely stole from the nearby bar, filled halfway with a dark brown liquid. “Hot whiskey with honey.”

She took the glass from him, their fingers barely brushing as she did so. The glass was still very warm, which was probably thanks to him hiding it in his jacket. That also helped with the thievery. “Where did you find whiskey?” she asked. They were in the middle of wine country, and spirits such as this were few and far between - and very expensive. He shrugged.

“Sometimes it’s just about asking around.” he said cryptically. The red was back in his cheeks. She took a sip of the drink, the harsh liquor cut nicely with the honey. She had to admit, it was very soothing, and warmed her from the inside out. 

“Thank you, Barnes.” she said softly. She could feel the heat radiating off her cheeks, and she hoped that she could blame the one sip of whiskey for it. The gesture surprised her, and she searched his face for any ulterior motives. Either he had none, or he was very good at hiding it.

“Not a Barnes, sergeant.” he said with a grin. She could see in his eyes that he caught his blunder, but he was just sober enough to pretend it was on purpose.

“Not a sergeant, doc.” she replied, making his smile grow wider. A quick glance around the room made him realize that they were alone, and she held her breath, wondering if this was the moment that she always worried about. He opened his mouth to say something else, but apparently changed his mind, instead just patting her knee and standing up from the low cot with a groan.

“Drink up and rest up, Doc. We’re back on the road again tomorrow.” he said. He out his hands into the pockets of his jacket, navigating through the cots and back out the door. She stared after him for a moment, a little astounded that he would be so kind. The soldiers she knew often didn’t do anything without expecting something in return, but it seemed Barnes might just be a genuinely good man. She took another sip of whiskey instead of trying to figure out the puzzle of the man’s mind, deciding that it was something she could work on in the morning. When the glass was empty and her stomach full, she drifted once again, sleeping soundly until the early morning call to pack up and move.

It was a dreary day, the clouds threatening rain but holding off as they went down the gravel roads. They were hoping to reach the next town over by nightfall, but the distance would push them to their limits. Stops were limited to just one at midday, where a meager meal was passed around before they set off again. Lu thought longingly of her pesto and bread tucked safely in Angela’s trunk, but knew that there was no way she could partake in it without having to share. 

Thunder started rumbling in the distance as the road started smoothing, telling of their proximity to the town. They couldn’t tell exactly where the sun was on its route, but figured it was starting the descent since the grey of the sky was now slightly darker. Everyone was antsy in the uncomfortable seats of the van, shifting and fidgeting as they waited for the final stop. Angela was chatting about the night before, detailing all the wonderful people she met and the men who danced with her, and how one of their fellow nurses seemed sweet on a guy while another one spent the whole night avoiding a guy that was sweet on her. Lu listened with half attention, trying to ignore the churning in her gut by thinking that she simply had too much whiskey the night before. 

But when the van pulled to a stop, she could sense immediately that something was wrong. The other nurses clambered out of the truck, happy to be free of their confinement, but she told herself not to count their chickens until they took in their surroundings. 

The town was completely demolished. Buildings were burnt and crumbling, ashes and trash skittering across the empty street in the wind that told of the coming storm. A particularly strong gust slapped them across the face with the scent of smoke and decay, making most of them cover their noses with the collars of their jackets. But Lu just stood, making herself take in every detail of the devastation. Glass storefronts, broken and shattered. Discarded hats and gloves, left where they fell as their owners ran for their lives. The bell of the church tower, cracked and lying in front of the bombed wall. Little shoes that belonged to the child still wearing them, most of the body crushed under a pile of rubble. And over all of it, a blanket of silence so heavy that Lu thought she was going to suffocate.

“Oh my God.” Angela breathed, her muffled voice sounding loud in the quiet. “Should we - I mean, there might be survivors, we could help-”

“There’s no one alive here.” Lu interrupted. She didn’t want to dash the girl’s idea so quickly, but hope would not be her friend in this situation. She’d heard this kind of silence before, the one only inhabited by ghosts. “We were too late to help them.”

“No.” Angela sighed, her eyes filling with tears. Above them, the sky finally opened up, camouflaging them as they fell onto her cheeks. Lu took her hand, squeezing it. 

“I know.” she said. She didn’t care that they were getting wet, or that they’d been ordered back in the van. They stood a moment longer, mourning the lost lives of this town since no one else was there to do so. Lu wished she had something more comforting to say - something about how they couldn’t save everyone, something about how this would all be over soon - but nothing came out. All she could manage was another, “I know.”

Sometimes, they had days that took them out of their situation, that let them believe that the trouble was far away. But the thing about War is, it refused to be ignored or forgotten. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for the lovely comments! i adore them all so much!! i probably won't be able to update next weekend because of christmas shenanigans, but i hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season and i'll see you soon! please let me know what you thought of this chapter!


	10. Hot - June 17, 2104

**Chapter 10: Hot**

**June 17, 2014**

Summer hated the way the bells always chimed whenever she entered a store. Even though the baseball cap hid her face from the above cameras and the shoddy dye job made her hair (somewhat) less obvious, that annoying little  _ ting _ always sent a shock through her and made her feel like all eyes were on her.

They’d continued their journey south, and now going into the shops was necessary to retrieve hydration and also proper clothing for the weather. It also helped that most indoor places had  _ air conditioning _ , a wondrous invention that both of them appreciated, especially since the cars they borrowed were rarely strong enough to combat the blaring glare of the sun. They’d stopped trying to steal from the stores after a particularly observant man in North Carolina started following her around, instead choosing to pick-pocket people on the street for just enough cash to cover what they needed. That in itself was difficult, as very few people carried paper money, instead opting for little squares of plastic to hold their funds. But she was patient and quick, and thus far had been able to find what she needed. 

The kid behind the counter - he appeared to be an adolescent, though Summer assumed labor laws didn’t allow for such a thing anymore - barely glanced up at her as she calmly walked in. She didn’t like having her arms bare when around so many people, and had to constantly monitor the hem of her t-shirt to make sure that it continued to hide the knife in her waistband with the fabric sticking to the sweat of her back. She went through the aisles, filling the basket on her arm with protein bars and bottled water. There were packages of sleeveless shirts, plain and cheap, and she grabbed one of those to add to their collection. Most clothing they currently owned was discarded as soon as it was too stained or too ripe, as it wasn’t worth it to find a clean water source and take the time to wash them. 

She turned the corner to find an aisle full of books and periodicals. It wasn’t unusual; the bigger stores often had racks of magazines and newspapers, and she always took a quick glance to make sure neither she nor Winter were on the front page with a warning and a number to call. But instead of news, she instead found herself staring at a wall of book covers with beefy men of various states of undress, most of them holding women in period clothing. There were very few faces and lots of pectoral muscles, and even if she’d never seen any of them before there was something familiar about them. She glanced around to make sure she was alone in the aisle, then very carefully picked one up. The picture on the front had a man in a loose white shirt, the collar of which dived into a deep V. The busty woman he was holding was wearing a red corset and had a knife pointed towards him, the point of it resting at the hollow of his throat. In a spidery script the title curled around them, naming the book  _ A Night with the Pirate King _ . Summer furrowed her brows; pirates didn’t have kings, as far as she knew. They had captains, right? But perhaps that was one of many changes that had happened over the past few years. 

She opened the book to a random page, her eyes scanning the words and her eyebrows raising as she read.  _ He bent her over the table, his knife ripping through the ribbons of her corset to free her breasts of their cage- _

“Interesting.” she murmured to herself. In her mind’s eye, she saw a different page, one without the more explicit words but with the same general feel. She knew she hadn’t read this book before - a quick check told her that it was published in 2013 - but she had an inkling in the back of her mind that she’d read something similar. She went to put the book back on the shelf but found herself lingering, her fingers not wanting to let go of it. She did not need the book. It was not a necessity to live, and their funds were low as it was. But...but she  _ wanted  _ it. She had not wanted much in recent memory, most of her desires circling somewhere between wanting to escape and wanting the pain to stop. She grit her teeth, and with a determined huff she tossed the book into the basket with the rest of their supplies. 

The kid behind the register barely paid her any attention as he scanned her items and placed them into plastic bags. She tried not to look too suspicious, keeping her eyes down but part of her face visible so she wouldn’t appear to be hiding. When he said her total in a monotone voice, she handed over some of their stolen cash without touching his hand and accepted her change in the same manner. She couldn’t exit the store fast enough, feeling she spent too much time there. It took everything in her not to jog down the sidewalk, knowing that it would bring attention to her and also probably overheat her. She missed the cold air of the store, as even though she walked at what she felt was a leisurely pace, she was still sweating by the time she found Winter and the car a couple blocks away. The car wasn’t much cooler than the outside, the sun still sharp through the glass windows. 

“Alright?” he asked as he put it in drive, going onto the street and maneuvering back towards the highway. She got her empty bag from the back seat and started loading it with her spoils, waiting until he was looking the opposite direction before sneaking  _ A Night with the Pirate King _ into a different pocket. She did not think he would have a negative reaction, but she did not want to test it just yet. 

“Alright.” she answered. She could tell him that no one seemed to recognize her, that no one spoke to her, that they weren’t in the newspapers or on the television. But why say all that, when she could simply tell him that so far, they were alright? 

It was a quiet drive, the heat building and agitating them the further south they went. Neither one knew exactly how far they were going to go, figuring that they’d stop when they got caught or when they ran out of land. Finally, when they could see nothing but dense, steaming forest, they stopped the car and started walking. 

They thought it was hot before. Turns out, Florida was on a different level.

_ Hotter than hell. Hotter than the sun. Hotter than Satan’s ballsack. _ Winter didn’t know where all these phrases were coming from, but he so agreed with the sentiments that he ended up grinning to himself. They’d gotten there the night before, spending their time looking for remote areas on the high ground where they could rest for a few days before making a plan. But the brush was not cooperating with them, making their trek slow, sweaty, and difficult.  _ Hotter than a twenty cent pistol. Hotter than a cat on a tin roof. Hotter than- _

“Why are you smiling?” Summer’s question interrupted the string, making the grin drop from his face and nearly making him lose his train of thought. Her tone wasn’t accusatory; in fact, she was looking at him with curiosity and something else he couldn’t quite interpret. He held her eyes for a long moment as he considered what to do; back under Hydra, there had been no smiling, no camaraderie. But the more information they got through on the thumb drive, and the more time they spent out of the ice, the clearer it became to them that, at one point in time, they were very important to each other. Most emotions felt foreign now, if he even felt them at all. But he knew in his bones that he and Summer belonged together. One corner of his mouth lifted again.

“It’s hotter than two rats in a wool sock...and I’m sweating like a whore in church.” he said. She blinked at him, her face completely blank for a moment before she smiled as well.

“Did a lot of whores go to your church?” she asked. He didn’t have an immediate answer for her, but something about the moment felt right. Strange, but right, as if he’d lived a similar moment before. Had they had this conversation, back in the day? Back before they were taken and broken and haphazardly put back together?

“Seems counterintuitive, but lucrative.” he replied, returning his attention to the vines in their way. Despite their best efforts, there was no way for them to remain silent as they pushed through the undergrowth, so Winter focused on removing the obstacles and Summer kept look out as they went. After a moment, he realized that she wasn’t following him. He was immediately on alert, reaching for another knife as he turned back. But her gun was still at ease, her lips slightly parted as she kept her breathing even. The look she gave him was so intense that it made his heart palpitate.

“It’s hot as blue blazes.” she said. He took in a sharp breath, the words seeming familiar,  _ so familiar _ , the memory dancing just out of reach. His frustration must have shown on his face because she repeated it, “Hot as blue blazes.”

He suddenly got a picture in his mind, Summer holding her blonde hair up and fanning her neck. But she wasn’t Summer. No, this was when she’d still been Lucille Peters. He couldn’t make out the background, but he could see the sun beating down on her slightly golden shoulders, a warm breeze sending a flowery scent his way.  _ It’s hot as blue blazes _ she said, a very slight lilt coloring her voice. He saw his hand reach out - his actual hand, not the metal one Hydra had bolted on - and lift up a chunk of the blonde hair that escaped her grasp. 

“Why are the blazes blue?” he asked lowly. It held no tease like it did in the memory, but he knew that was the right response. Summer took in a sharp breath, realizing that they were sharing this memory, that they were together outside of Hydra for the first time in however long. 

“Blue fire. It burns hotter than orange.” she replied. It was a fact they knew well, both from the scientific perspective and from personal experience. But that’s what she’d said to him that day in the sunshine. She could almost feel the heat of it on her skin again, if she thought about it hard enough. The memory faded, and he nodded before turning back to his task.

“We need to continue.” he said. Every day, there was a little less command in his voice, and she had the feeling that if she did not have enhanced hearing and know his mannerisms better than anyone else, she would not be able to tell the difference. Urgency, without the bite of an order.

“Yes, sir.” she replied, feeling just a slight tingle go down her spine as opposed to the sharp reaction that usually left her standing up ramrod straight. They continued through the jungle, ignoring the way the sweat dripped down their backs and chests. The white of the t-shirt she wore was stained brown as the cheap hair dye slowly gave up. But their efforts were soon rewarded as they stumbled onto a dilapidated house.

It was really more of a shack than a house, and if it weren’t for the cinder blocks it probably would have collapsed long ago. But the tin roof was still in a big enough piece to protect them from the rain that the humid air threatened, and it boasted big enough holes in the walls to allow for multiple exits. The thick underbrush would be a good enough alarm system for the night, and in the light of day they could set up more comprehensive ones.

“I’ll take first watch.” Winter said. Summer nodded, going into the house and laying her pack down on the dusty floor. She laid down her gun so she could grab it if she needed, checking her knives before taking her place next to the weapon. The dust felt disgusting on her grimy skin, and she found herself actually grimacing as she rested her head on her pack. She heard the creaking of the tin as Winter settled on top of it, and the click of his gun as he used the scope to lookout. She knew she needed to rest so that she could relieve him in a few hours, but the dirt felt like it was biting into her sensitive skin, something in her pack (it felt like the corner of a book) was digging into her neck, and every time she closed her eyes all she could see was Winter - Bucky - smiling back at her on that sunny day. 

He could hear her as she tossed and turned, the sounds of her discomfort making something tighten between his shoulder blades. It was almost like her disquiet was affecting his state of being, his normal calm replaced by a buzzing in his muscles. Something was stirring in his stomach, but he wasn’t sure if it was concern or annoyance or a little bit of both. All he knew was that when he finally heard her get up and join him on the roof, the knot in his back loosened.

“You should be resting.” he whispered, his voice barely louder than the wildlife flourishing in the dark of the night. He didn’t move from his position, watching the shadows for any sign of life. Summer knelt behind him, facing the opposite direction to cover his back, and gazed through her own scope for any threats.

“Couldn’t sleep.” she replied, her voice just as quiet. The trees around helped to camouflage them, but they were both very aware of how unprotected they were. The heat made their kevlar suits stifling and restrictive, but the t-shirts they’d stolen left them exposed. In the end, they chose mobility over protection, depending on their enhanced healing and own hubris to protect them from death or injury.

“Dreams?” he asked, and she shook her head without knowing if he saw the response. It was the first time either one of them had acknowledged the nightmares that plagued them both. They often awoke grappling with each other, trying to fight away the ghosts stuck in their minds. 

“Couldn’t get comfortable.” she said. There were still dark grey marks on her arms from where the dirt had stuck to her sweat, but now that she was upright and in the breeze it didn’t bother her enough to warrant attention. Something moved into her scope - a raccoon, scurrying back to its home. After a beat of silence she asked, “Have you remembered anything else?”

“Bits and pieces. Most of them...bad.” he said. He used to be so much more eloquent, but now he was stuck using the few words his brain could find. He tried to find more memories like the one with the sunshine, but mostly all he was finding was ones with blood on his hands. “You?”

“Very few.” she answered. She thought of the book in her pack, and her brain called up a brief vision of Winter smiling, holding a similar one away so that she couldn’t reach it. She felt heat in her cheeks, as though her body was responding to a memory that she didn’t yet understand. “You took a book from me once. Teased me about it.” 

He said nothing for a long while. The only sound was a rhythmic clicking, which a furtive glance over her shoulder revealed to be his right thumb tapping against the shaft of his gun. He still looked like he was gazing through the scope, but she had the feeling that his attention was elsewhere. He was trying to remember, trying to see the things she saw. Were they real? Or were they somehow a shared hallucination? Finally, he let out a long breath, the lines of his forehead relaxing and his eyes sharpening on the scope again.

“You were very angry. And embarrassed, I think.” he said. That would explain the blush that she felt when the memory surfaced. She was glad for his confirmation, another piece of the puzzle of their time before Hydra. She knew to what he referenced earlier as well, the memories that were “bad”. She remembered looking way blood sprayed on the pink coat of the President’s wife. She remembered holding down the ballerinas as they underwent graduation. She remembered choking the blonde woman in the car so they could retrieve the blue serum from the trunk. But though she knew these things were bad, she did not feel remorse for them. Yet. 

“Are we going to separate?” she asked, a question that had been at the back of her mind during this entire escapade. Her chest felt like it was cramping as she waited for his answer. She had followed Winter willingly as they walked away, and would follow his orders if he sent her in the opposite direction, but she couldn’t deny that something in her panicked at the idea of going into the world without him. 

“No.” he said, swift and sure. Whatever was clamping on her sternum released its hold, allowing her to breathe again. She sat back so that she was leaning against him, the warmth of his skin contrasting with the cold of his prosthetic. She could feel every scar and every inch of the metal edge as he settled against her. 

“What are we going to do now?” she asked. It was a long overdue conversation, and likely one that would not be finished tonight. They had both thought of the different possibilities, the different routes they could take. But she’d been told time and again that Winter was the one in charge, and so she would defer to him. 

“We have two options.” he said. Good, the less amount of choices, the easier it would be to choose. “Find a place on the black map, or hunt down the ones that did this to us before they hunt us down first.” 

Two extremes. Two sides of a coin.  _ Heads I win, tails you lose _ . But what if the coin landed on its side?

“We could do both.” she suggested, as her instinct for survival was equally matched by her rage at their handlers. She felt Winter shift behind her, the metal of his arm now warm from where it had been pressed against her skin. 

“Two birds.” he said, and she could hear the grin in his voice. She couldn’t help but match it, even though he couldn’t see her face.

“One stone.” she finished, the second half of the phrase coming to her without a fight. Well, maybe not stones, but a lot of bullets. And a few knife wounds. Perhaps a bomb or two. She kept those thoughts to herself, figuring he was having the exact same ones. They shifted their guns in tandem, scopes still trained on the surrounding wilderness. It was so much easier when they had a plan, even if it was just the beginnings of one. And it was understood now that they would be at each other’s side for the entirety of it. 

Five miles away, the hunter’s scope could barely pick up the heat signatures of Summer and Winter. They were smart, keeping to the shadows and hiding in places that helped disguise them. But they forgot that they had trained the hunter and his colleagues, and that the beloved scientists of Hydra had allowed the two of them to walk so that his squad could run. And that was the kicker, wasn’t it?

Summer and Winter were trying to walk away.

But they couldn’t outrun  _ him _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg, i'm so sorry that i didn't update last sunday! i forgot i had a continuing education course all weekend...oops! 
> 
> regardless, thank you so so so much for the kudos and the comments! i seriously cherish every single one of them. y'all are awesome. i hope y'all enjoyed this chapter, please let me know your thoughts!


	11. Reverberations - August 28, 1943

**Chapter 11: Reverberations**

**August 28, 1943**

There was no middle ground when it came to war. Either they were balls deep in some trench, trying to take down the other guy before he had the chance to get to them, or they were sitting and waiting. Waiting for orders, waiting for reinforcements, or waiting for the goddamned Nazis to come and find them. They were currently stopped somewhere in the mountains with camp halfway set up with just the barracks and the command center. Word had come through that another unit was going to land in a couple weeks, so the 107th was supposed to sit and wait until they could join up and head to Azzano. 

Bucky waited until his whole squad went through the mess line and settled in their spot before getting in line himself, though if he was honest he wasn’t exactly excited about the food. The chunk of soda bread that the cook tossed at him made a terrifyingly dense noise as it hit his plate, and he had a deeply rooted fear that he was going to lose a couple of his teeth when he tried to eat it. The slop at the end of the line wasn’t any more appetizing, and when the runner came up to him and interrupted his inching down the line he was almost grateful.

“Sergeant Barnes?” the kid - and he had to be a kid, Bucky wondered how he tricked the enlistment men - asked, his voice hesitant in a way that said he’d accidentally asked a few other sergeants who were  _ not _ Barnes. 

“Yes, private?” he asked in return, not bothering to hide his own suspicious tone. Runners didn’t come for him unless he was in trouble, and they didn’t come during dinner unless the commander was going to ask him to do something he didn’t want to do.

“Commander needs to see you. ASAP.” he said, his relief evident. Bucky was silent for a minute, staring at the kid long enough to get him to sweat, before sighing in resignment. 

“Alright, I’m on my way.” he said, picking up his bread and tossing his plate back onto the pile. He started walking towards the makeshift command center, the private following alongside him until Bucky sent him on his way. He bit into the soda bread and thought that he’d had unripe apples softer than this, the texture enough to sour his mood even further. He’d had a bad feeling all day hanging around him, and now he was about to find out why. 

“Barnes.” the commander greeted, not looking up from the papers in front of him. Another soldier that Bucky recognized, but didn’t know the name of, stood just off to the side, clearly also summoned and getting there before him. Bucky stood at attention, hiding the last bit of his dinner in his hand - his co-conspirator definitely noticed, but didn’t comment. “At ease, at ease.” 

“Commander.” he said. He hated the games their commander played, acting like he was just calling on him for afternoon tea instead of sending him into the jaws of hell. Bucky knew by now that the calmer the commander pretended to be, the worse the orders were, and the older man was currently lounging in his chair and lazily going through the information in front of him like he was doing the Saturday morning crossword.

“Have you met Lieutenant Falsworth?” he asked, using his free hand to gesture vaguely in the direction of the other guy. Falsworth tilted his head towards him, and Bucky extended a hand.

“I haven’t. James Barnes.” he said. Falsworth shook his hand, but the polite smile he gave didn’t quite reach his eyes. He must know more about what was coming than Bucky did.

“James Falsworth.” he replied. There were no further pleasantries; it wasn’t nice to meet, because more than likely they were doing something dangerous. Both of them wondered if the commander had called on them because he got his James’s mixed up.

“How’s that arm feeling?” the commander questioned casually, and the anxiety that had been simmering in the bottom of Bucky’s stomach all day spiked. He wouldn’t ask after his well being if he wasn’t about to also ask something really bad. 

“Good as new.” Bucky replied, because he knew that was the answer he was looking for. Truth be told it still ached if he lifted something too heavy, but that wasn’t something limiting enough for him to sit off on the side. The commander nodded, carefully putting down his pen and actually looking up at them for the first time since he walked in.

“I have a mission for you. Covert.” he said. Bucky had to stop himself from squirming; covert missions were the worst ones, the ones with the increased likelihood that they weren’t coming back. Falsworth was perfectly still next to him, hiding his apprehension as well. 

“Yes, sir.” he said. He didn’t trust himself to say any more.

“There’s word of enemy movement to the north of us. Air Force tried to do a night flyover and got shot down, so we need some eyes from the ground.” he said. There it was. “Falsworth is the tracker and tactics. Barnes, you’ll run support. Hopefully you don’t have to put that marksman title to good use. You leave at twenty-two-hundred, be back by oh-six-hundred.” One hour to prepare. Eight hours for a recon mission. Either the enemy was too close for comfort, or the commander wasn’t expecting them to come back from this. He glanced sideways and met Falsworth’s eyes, getting the feeling that he had the same thought. “Run by the med truck for a first aid kit, and the armory truck for weapons and comms. Don’t take more than you need.”

“Yes, sir.” Bucky and Falsworth said at the same time, standing to attention. The commander gave them a few more details and instructions, but Bucky barely registered them. His mind was already whirring, trying to decide what he needed before they went out. It wasn’t ideal to go with someone he didn’t know, but it was the hand he’d been dealt. They were dismissed and left the tent in silence, waiting until they were out of earshot before their facade dissolved.

“We’re fucked.” Falsworth spoke first, and Bucky gave a brief huff of a laugh that was in no ways humorous. 

“It’s been a pleasure sharing this earth with ya, Falsworth.” he said. They would never choose death for themselves, but a lot of soldiers felt that if they could amuse the Reaper with jokes about the end, maybe he might let them stick around, just so he could see what happened. 

“He could’ve at least let us eat beforehand.” he said, his tone exaggerated as if this was the worst part of the deal.

“And at least something edible.” Bucky agreed, just realizing that he was still squeezing the chunk of soda bread in his fist. Somehow, it hadn’t broken, so he just tossed the whole thing to the side and dusted off his hands. He longed for the bread and pesto that he and Lu had gotten from the little Italian lady in the countryside, but they’d long since finished that. 

They stopped by the armory first, Falsworth getting a couple pistols and a pair of binoculars. Bucky pulled his rifle from the stack, but didn’t say no when the soldier manning the truck offered a pistol to him as well. He already had a knife sheathed in the back of his waistband; that thing never left him, just in case. For some reason, the guy didn’t want to part with two of the few portable radios they had, despite both Bucky and Falsworth arguing that they had permission from the commander to take whatever they needed for a covert op (just not more than that). Finally, after too long of a conversation, they got the communications devices, and tried not to complain too much as the soldier took up more of their time explaining how they worked. 

“Can I have one of these?” Bucky asked, gesturing to the box of grenades. The explosives were laid out perfect and neat, like eggs in a carton.

“I already gave you the radios. Don’t push your luck.” the attendant said, with a little more attitude than Bucky felt was necessary. That’s why, when he turned to write on the ticket their names and what they were taking, he pinched one of the grenades and slipped it into his pocket. When they finally walked away, they only had twenty minutes before they disembarked. 

“I gotta run by my bunk.” Falsworth said. Whether it was to grab a spare knife or a picture of his sweetheart he didn’t say, and Bucky wasn’t going to ask. “Can you get the first aid pack?”

“Got it. I’ll meet you out front five-till.” he said, glad that he was going to have a moment to himself before their departure. With a curt nod, Falsworth peeled away, going towards the barracks instead of the hospital tent. The full structure wasn’t set up, just enough covering for those on duty to stay out of the elements and help with anything the soldiers needed. The knot in his chest loosened a bit as he saw a familiar blonde outside it, perched on a rock and savoring a cigarette. 

“Sorry, sir, patients only.” Lu said with a grin, offering him the cigarette as he sat down next to her. He took it gratefully, glad to have a little nicotine in him to settle his nerves. 

“You on tonight?” he asked, bypassing her tease. He was slowly shifting into mission mode, getting all his ducks in a row. Her demeanor changed at his response, her posture shifting so she was sitting a little straighter.

“Why, you gonna ask me out or something?” she said lightly, though the sarcasm didn’t quite land. He quirked up one corner of his mouth, the best sign of amusement that he could do; he should be glad that she was actually joking with him nowadays, and definitely should make a joke about  _ yes, yes I am _ , but the upcoming night was taking up too much of his brain.

“Commander’s sending me out on an op. I just...got a bad feeling about it is all.” he explained, taking another long drag before handing the cigarette back to her. The smoke was warm in his lungs, but it didn’t help ease any of the tension in his chest. Lu nodded, looking at him seriously. She knew that gut feelings shouldn’t be ignored, particularly in their current line of work.

“I’m supposed to be off at twenty-two. But I’ll switch with Angela.” she said. Bucky shook his head, trying to wave off the offer.

“Nah, nah, go to bed. You’ve been working all day.” he said. It was too kind of her to switch, and he didn’t want her to lose a night off on his account. “Take your night, I’m sure it’s just the full moon or something.” 

“You know in hospitals, crazy shit usually happens on the full moon.” she pointed out, making him roll his eyes.

“Thanks, Doc. Really great for the confidence.” he said, slightly harsher than he meant to. Luckily Lu didn’t take offense, instead moving just enough so their shoulders were touching. 

“I’ll switch shifts.” she said definitively. When he opened his mouth to object, she simply stuffed the cigarette in it. “I’m switching. Don’t fight me. Now, finish that while I go round up a first aid pack - I assume that’s why you’re here?”

“That’s why I’m supposed to be here, yea.” he said, giving her as flirty of a grin as he could manage. She didn’t need to know that he was serious about what he was implying - that he really just wanted to see her. But he got the feeling that if he actually made a serious advance she would balk, and he would rather have her on his side than try and take that chance. She scoffed, clearly thinking he was messing with her, and ducked into the tent while he finished her smoke. He let his gaze linger after her, taking advantage of the one moment he’d get where he didn’t have to hide the feelings that were starting to whisper inside him. He dropped his eyes quickly as she came back out, dropping the butt of the cigarette onto the ground and grinding it with his heel. 

“Here. Got you one of the ones with extra luck in it.” she said, sitting back down and handing him the small canvas bag. The lamp hanging from the front of the tent was just bright enough to show her reddening cheeks, and this time he gave her a real smile.

“Aw, Doc, are you getting attached to me?” he asked. He could feel the smile fade away as he hoped for a serious answer. She opened her mouth to say something, but apparently changed her mind halfway through, instead saying,

“Not a doctor, Barnes.” Her voice was soft as she said it. 

“Barely a Barnes, sergeant.” he replied, finishing their inside joke. He decided that if he came back from this alive, it was going to be his new good luck charm. She looked at him then, her green eyes grey in the moonlight and the lamp turning her blonde hair into a halo around her.  _ Never kissed an angel _ he thought to himself, though he knew he’d be in a world of hurt if he said it out loud. The moment passed and Lu cleared her throat, patting his knee as she stood back up.

“Be careful out there, Barnes.” she said, almost like an order. She crossed her arms over her chest, putting a little barrier between them. He always wondered what was going on in her head that made her always keep a little bit of a wall up. 

“Yes, ma’am.” he replied with a salute. Behind the tent, he could see Angela coming from the barracks, the younger woman giving him a bright smile and a wave as she spotted him. That meant his time was up. He waved back and checked his watch, not noticing how his gesture made the girl blush. Instead, all he could think was how he was going to have to walk double time if they were going to leave at twenty-two-hundred. He gave one last look to Lu before turning on his heel, heading out to find whatever was waiting for them. 

“Thought you were standing me up.” Falsworth said when Bucky got there with approximately thirty seconds to spare. He shrugged, the familiar weight of his rifle on his shoulder helping to ground him. 

“Well I had to play a little hard to get, we’ve only just met, Lieutenant.” he said, trying to act like there was nothing to be scared of as the gatekeeper checked them out. Once they were cleared, they got into the Jeep waiting for them, the moon giving them just enough light to see the vague path they followed down the mountain. Falsworth drove while Bucky navigated, rifle set at the ready just in case they met with any enemy fire. The Jeep felt ungodly loud as they drove through the night, stopping occasionally to check the map and make sure they were on track. When they reached the edge of the mountain range, they stopped the car and shut off the lights, knowing this last bit was going to be on foot. 

There was no time or desire for conversation, the only sounds being the soft crunch of their boots on the earth and their slow, steady breathing. There were enough trees around to give them some cover (both the noise and a physical barrier), but not enough for either man to rest easy. Bucky wished they had more; he felt like they might as well be on top of a wall, waving a flamethrower and playing a jazz song on the highest setting of a juke box. But he had to settle for the saplings swaying around them, and hope that they looked enough like bears in the middle of the night to not draw attention. 

A mile out from the Jeep, they heard the distinct sounds of forces moving. Bucky met Falsworth’s eyes, gesturing with his head towards the noise. “How many, you reckon?” he asked. Falsworth listened, his eyes moving just slightly with each beat of the soldier’s steps.

“Small group. But they’re totin’ some heavy machinery.” he said. Bucky agreed; they could hear the trucks even at this distance. Falsworth thought for a second more. “They’re just over that hill, I think. If we hurry, we can go around and hide in the brush before they come around.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” he replied, clicking off the safety on his rifle and settling it in a more ready position. They took off at a jog, their movements definitely louder than they were before, but not loud enough to be heard over the trucks. They could see the beams from the headlights as they got closer to the edge of the hill, and ended up sprinting and sliding into home behind some bushes to stay hidden as the enemy rounded the corner. 

At first, it was the usual suspect: a line of large vans with VW insignias on the fronts. Bucky had been told once that the brand was called  _ Volkswagen _ , though apparently the Fuhrer drove a nicer brand of some sort that was too good for the front lines. But the ants were moving slower than usual, and the vans were followed by heavily armored soldiers. Their uniforms were plated in some sort of black material that looked nearly impenetrable, and all their heads were covered in helmets of the same thing. Black goggles shone like an extra set of eyes on their foreheads, making them look like something out of an H.G. Wells novel. And behind them a massive flat bed truck groaned its way down the lane, some sort of mechanical cylinder tied down to it and swaying precariously as they crossed the uneven terrain. That in itself wouldn’t be worrisome, but the thing that made their blood run cold was that the cylinder was glowing blue, and even however many yards away they were, they could feel the energy pulsing from it. 

“What the  _ fuck _ is that?” Bucky whispered, hoping that somehow he’d just missed the memo on crazy Nazi technology. But the way that Falsworth had stopped breathing told him the Lieutenant didn’t know either. 

“No fucking clue.” he said breathlessly. The procession stopped, sending a jolt through the both of them. Had they been discovered? Falsworth took one slow step backwards, tugging Bucky’s sleeve so he got the hint and followed. If they were found out, survival was going to be a matter of outrunning the enemy. But the soldiers didn’t train their guns on them, and the lights didn’t swing their way. Either the regiment was a little lazy, or some sort of deity was looking out for them, because all they did was start making camp. Four soldiers stayed put guarding the cylinder, shifting uneasily as it continued to beat like some terrible, diseased heart. 

“Don’t like the looks of that.” Bucky remarked. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, either from the energy of that blue thing or in the same way a dog’s do when they sense a threat. 

“No.” Falsworth said. He wasn’t agreeing, he was instead shutting down the plan that was just barely beginning to form.

“We can’t just walk away from that. Who knows what the hell it does?” Bucky countered. He wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing they let this thing go forward. Even if they couldn’t destroy it, they needed to at least hinder it. 

“This is a recon mission.” he hissed. But Bucky could tell his resolve was waning; he could see the threat as well. He didn’t say anything, letting Falsworth think about it and come to his own conclusions.

“Your call, Lieutenant.” he said. He knew what he would do in this situation, but he wasn’t in charge. All he could do was hope that his counterpart would agree. Sure enough, Falsworth let out a sigh.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked. He was still guarded, ready to shut down the idea if it wasn’t good enough. Bucky couldn’t help but smirk, almost feeling like he was back in Brooklyn, convincing Steve to do something he didn’t want to do. It was almost easier to convince the Lieutenant to go rogue on a covert op than it was to convince Steve to go out dancing on a Thursday night.

“Have you ever played baseball, sir?” he asked, his hand going to the grenade in his pocket. Falsworth eyed him uncertainly.

“Pitched for Boston College for four years. Why?” he countered. Bucky pulled out the knicked explosive.

“Still got that arm?” he asked. Falsworth froze.   


“No. Absolutely not. That is way too dangerous, there’s too many variables, there’s no way we’ll get out of the blast zone before it goes off - that’s fucking  _ suicide _ Barnes. Hell no.” he spoke quickly and fiercely, surprising Bucky. He knew it wasn’t a great plan, but he thought it was a little better than that. Falsworth paused, his focus no longer on Bucky but somewhere else, somewhere he couldn’t see. After a few tense moments, he snapped out of it. “How far away can you hit a mark with that thing?”

“This?” he said, gesturing to the rifle. “Six hundred yards is comfortable. Anything beyond that is gonna be shaky.” 

Falsworth nodded, the plan coming together. “How far away can you hit the grenade?”

That was a whole other story. “In the dark?” Luckily the moon was bright tonight, but would it be bright enough? “I don’t think I can go beyond three hundred.”

The Lieutenant thought for a moment longer. “Three hundred may be just enough.” he said, and immediately Bucky began buzzing. This was not going to be easy, and it was very high risk. But he knew they had to do  _ something _ . “I’ll place it just at the edge, we move back, and when we’re at the edge of the range you shoot it and we fly like bats out of hell.”

“Sounds terrible.” Bucky said, thinking of all the ways it could go wrong - and all the ways it could go right. “Let’s do it.” 

Falsworth gave him a toothy grin, holding his hand out for the explosive. Bucky handed it over with a decisive nod. “Cover me.” Falsworth said, not waiting for an affirmative before sneaking into the brush, the grenade in one hand and a pistol in the other. Bucky kneeled, resting his elbow on his knee and keeping his sight trained on the soldiers in black. He’d never seen armor like theirs before and had no idea where it was weakest, but if he could hit them he could at least distract them. He kept his breathing slow and steady, three beats in and four beats out, making sure his heart rate and blood pressure stayed low enough that his hands wouldn’t shake. Plus, the counting helped to distract his mind just enough so he didn’t freak out about this crazy plan they were enacting. 

The Lieutenant moved so slowly and carefully that Bucky may not have noticed him if he didn’t know where to look. He watched the silhouette as he crept closer and closer to the soldiers, eventually taking out the grenade and rolling it towards the truck. Luckily the hum coming from whatever this machine was covered up the sound of the metal on gravel, and the little black dot found a spot underneath the trailer. It was a small target, and hard to see due to the lighting, but Bucky could hit it. He  _ had _ to hit it. Falsworth sneaked back, the soldiers behind him supposedly none the wiser, and tapped Bucky’s elbow to signal that it was time to go. The rifle was put at ease and the pistol was drawn, their eyes wide and their steps careful as they retreated as far as they could. Bucky estimated the distance then put the sight up to his eye; he could barely see the ground under the truck from here, but it was still doable. The problem was the little saplings that were standing in the way, betraying him after being so helpful earlier. He lowered the rifle, letting out a controlled breath.

“I have to shift to the edge.” he said. He didn’t want to leave the cover of the trees, but it was necessary if he was going to get a clear shot. This wasn’t like a battle, where he could lay down a pepper of cover fire, or hit an enemy in the chest instead of the head. No, he had one shot, and if he missed, they were completely and royally fucked. 

“I’ve got you covered.” Falsworth said, pulling out his binoculars. Bucky nodded, going to the edge of the treeline and laying down on the ground. The earth underneath steadied him, the cool grass helping calm his nerves. There was little to no wind tonight, which was ideal - his biggest concerns were the distance and the elevation change. He settled the sight over the little black dot that represented the grenade, the quiet  _ click-click _ of his adjustments the only sound he could hear now. 

“How we looking?” he murmured, the question more of a mumble than anything so it didn’t upset his position. Next to him, he heard the wheel of the binoculars turn.

“You’re good. Take all the time you need.” Falsworth replied, also not moving. Bucky took a deep breath, then another for good measure. This was a different kind of pressure than mid-battle. He didn’t have to worry about the enemy gunning him down where he lay, or other men falling over him. But the night was so still he could feel it pushing on him from all sides, the air charged with something different that came from the direction of the weird glowing machine. If he missed, they’d probably make it out alive. But if he missed, how many would die because of that crazy contraption? Most marksman had a mantra, something they just repeated over and over to take them out of their own heads. But Bucky didn’t have one of those, thought they distracted him from his task. So he took one last breath, let it out, and squeezed the trigger. 

He heard the  _ boom _ from his rifle, and the  _ ting _ as it hit the grenade. There was a moment of elation as he realized he’d hit his target, followed by intense fear as the repercussions unfolded in slow motion. First, the grenade exploded, the force knocking down the surrounding soldiers and causing the trailer to burst from underneath. The cylinder seemed to suck in the flame and all the air around it, making the world go silent for a millisecond before its energy shifted. Before the cylinder could explode, Bucky felt the pressure coming from it, his ears actually popping and ringing before anything else happened. 

“We fucked up.” he said quickly, not entirely sure if it was out loud or in his head. Without regard to safety or stealth, he shot to his feet, grabbing Falsworth by the sleeve and taking off full tilt towards where he hoped the Jeep was parked. He could hear the force of the explosion chasing them, knocking down the young trees that had done their all to help them tonight. They were still a half a mile from their transportation when the destruction caught up with them, the force pushing them until they flew belly first, landing roughly on the rocky ground. It would have been bad enough to just stop there, but the reverberations kept pushing them forward, sending them rolling. The best Bucky could do was grab his neck and try to cover his face, the rest of his body going limp as inertia carried them. 

All in all, the explosion pushed them for another quarter mile, and when the rolling finally stopped and the world returned to its normal quiet, Bucky wasn’t completely convinced that he wasn’t dead. He took in a breath, feeling every bruise in his ribs and every piece of wood and rubble that was embedded in his skin. He started coughing uncontrollably; his body was trying to get the dust out of his lungs, but with every hack everything else spasmed in pain. He stifled the coughing, turning and looking for his partner in the darkness. A few feet away, a vaguely Lieutenant-shaped blob was still. Very still.  _ Too _ still.

“Lieutenant?” Bucky asked, his voice gravelly and hoarse. No response. He crawled over, laying a gentle hand on the body. It was still warm, and he wasn’t wet with blood. “Falsworth. Jim!” 

Falsworth came back to life with a dramatic breath before dissolving into the same coughs that Bucky had. Bucky did his best to hold him up, hoping that the pressure would help relieve the pain that he was no doubt feeling. A moment later the coughing changed to heaving as Falsworth vomited, and Bucky held him up during that too. 

“We’re still alive?” he asked, wiping his mouth on the back of a dirty sleeve and sitting back on his heels. 

“Best I can tell.” Bucky said. He wanted to just lay down again and stare at the stars for a little bit, but the inky black was already shifting into a light grey - they were supposed to return soon. “Come on, we gotta go.”

“I can’t believe we’re still alive.” he said incredulously. He wasn’t exactly focused on walking, letting Bucky pull him like a kid at Coney Island. 

“Believe it. Come on.” Bucky reiterated. His throat burned with every word he spoke, and he could tell that he’d taken a beating over his whole body. But he was still alive, and still moving, and if they wanted to stay that way then they needed to get to the Jeep and get back to base. Adrenaline helped as they limped the last bit, collapsing into the seats roughly before realizing how badly it would hurt with all the stuff embedded in their backs. Bucky’s ears were ringing and his hands were shaking as he turned the engine and turned the car around, hoping he remembered the way well enough since Falworth was probably too shell shocked to read the map. 

The sky was starting to turn purple and orange when they finally made it to camp again, and even if Bucky’s watch had stopped working after the weird energy blast he  _ knew _ they were late. The camp was just starting to wake up, a different shift of guards greeting them as the Jeep ran on fumes to make it through the gates. They flashed their tags and stumbled out of the car, their joints stiff as they ignored all questions and made their way to the medical tent, leaning against each other for support. Their report to the commander could wait, they had a lot of patching up first. 

True to her word, Lu was waiting in the tent, obviously trying not to look too worried as she sat in the corner or too relieved whenever she spotted him alive. “You’re late, Sergeant.” she said tersely, though there was definitely a catch in her voice. He held up his wrist, showing his destroyed timepiece.

“Sorry. Watch broke.” he said, another nurse coming up to pull Falsworth off of him. Her eyes were traveling all over him, and he could see her mentally tallying the injuries. 

“What happened?” she asked, pulling him to a cot and cutting away his fatigues. Suddenly he could feel every little thing that covered the back of his body. He wasn’t shy about the near nudity - she’d at least left his boxers intact - but he wasn’t excited about what was to come.

“Loaded question there, Doc. Think I’m supposed to make my official report first.” he said. Really he just wasn’t sure he could relive the near-death experience just yet. She took a sharp breath as she saw his back, the broad surface looking like a wall after a shrapnel bomb. She couldn’t imagine the amount of pain he would be in if he could see how bad it looked. 

“Lay down, Barnes. We’re gonna be here for a long while.” she said. Bucky complied, too tired to be nervous now. All the adrenaline had left his body, and all that remained was exhaustion and pain. Lu got comfortable on a stool next to him, pulling a pair of tweezers from her pocket and carefully wiping them with alcohol.

“What have we here?” came another voice, one Bucky recognized as the doctor that tried to kill him. He was glad he couldn’t see him - and that he could barely move - because he very much wanted to give him a piece of his mind. 

“Multiple lacerations and puncture wounds, with impaling objects still embedded in the epidermis.” Lu said, taking on her very professional, very medical tone. He liked it a lot, but he would keep that fact to himself. She always had to play this game, because otherwise the physicians thought they could walk all over her. “Planning to administer morphine and remove foreign objects before cleaning and dressing the wounds.”

“He doesn’t need morphine.” the doctor said, giving her a challenging look. Lu sat up a little straighter, clenching her jaw to control her anger and keep her from mouthing off with the first thing that came to mind. Why did he always insist on such  _ stupid _ ways of treating?

“With all due respect, sir-” she started to explain how long, tedious, and painful this was going to be, but he waved her off.

“With all due respect, you’d do well to remember your place.” he retorted, his eyes harsh as he looked at her. He wanted her to rise to the bait, so he would have an excuse to...do what, she didn’t know. “No morphine. We’re low enough on supplies as is.”

“Yes, sir.” she said through gritted teeth. The doctor gave her a smirk and a nod, going to check on their other patient as if everything was fine. Lu turned her attention to Bucky, who was looking a little paler than he was a moment ago. “I’m sorry, Barnes.” she said quietly.

“Orders are orders.” he said. He didn’t like it, but he knew he could take it if he had Lu right there with him. “Do what you gotta do, Doc. I’m tough.”

“I’ll go as quick as I can. Just tell me if you need a break.” she said gently. Normally her bedside manner was more no-nonsense, which was often necessary with her patient population. But he was glad that it was just a little bit different for him. He nodded, not trusting his voice. 

She went for the largest thing first, a massive shard of wood impaled just below his tenth rib. It was too big for the tweezers, and instead she had to use her hands to slowly remove it from his skin. She briefly saw his mouth open in pain before he buried his face in the flat pillow, using it to stifle his groan. She gently wiped the lightly bleeding area with alcohol, earning a sharp breath from him that only led to more pain. Bruising was already appearing, both the deep purples of superficial skin contusions and the deep, faint blue that told of injured ribs. He would be feeling those for a while. She methodically moved through all the pieces, trying to keep her breath even and keep her emotions in check as she worked. But with his every breath and shift of pain, she felt like she might as well take the bits she was removing and shove them into her own heart. 

“You’re doing great. Do you want to stop?” she said, and Bucky was unable to form any response except for a shake of his head. If he stopped now, he might never start again. So Lu continued on, the cool facade on her face as she worked and pretended that her heart wasn’t breaking when every once in a while his shoulders shook with silent sobs. She didn’t mention it and never would, knowing that no matter how tough a man is, there’s always something that can break them. 

The sun was nearing its highest point by the time she finished, Bucky heaving out a sigh as she finished the last dressing. Her back and neck popped as she sat up straight for the first time in a couple hours, the fatigue settling in as she let her muscles relax. Across the tent, Falsworth was fast asleep, his own nurse finishing with his wounds earlier in the morning. Lu knew she should handoff to the next nurse, get up, and go back to the barracks. But the barracks seemed so far away, and her arms were filled with lead. So instead, she laid down on the ground next to Bucky’s cot, feeling very much like a runner that just finished a marathon. His breathing was slow and even and she thought he was finally asleep, but he surprised her by moving his bruised arm, reaching down to take her hand.

“You did good, Doc.” he said. His voice was strained; he was still hurting quite a bit. But at least he could heal now, without anything stuck into his skin. Her brain had no words left in it after focusing for so long. A part of her knew that she probably needed to pull her hand away, that this wasn’t proper, but his fingers were cold and shaking just slightly, and she wanted nothing more than to comfort him, and for him to remind her that he was okay and alive. He’d made her nervous when he left earlier, but now that he was back, she could finally rest.

She knew there was something different about the way she felt towards him. But that wasn’t something she was going to try and figure out right now.


	12. Air - June 19, 2014

**Chapter 12: Air**

**June 19, 2014**

It wasn’t comfortable, sitting and simmering in the humid swamp called Florida, but Winter and Summer both agreed that it was better than being in the Ice Box. 

When they were in the north, it felt like their senses were dampened, subdued. They didn’t have to waste brain space on aberrant smells and sounds and tastes in the air, letting them focus on things that were more important, or find things that didn’t belong. But the water in the air held things long after they’d passed, overwhelming them with sensory input. It was hard to determine what data was important and what was simply that - superfluous details, raised from the earth and sent wherever the wind took them. Winter wanted to leave. But Summer asked to stay just a day or two longer, and since her hands were still cold every time she touched his shoulder to change watch, he relented.

He awoke in the middle of the night, head pounding and muscles tight from a nightmare. He couldn’t remember exactly what it had been about this time, but something was definitely different. It wasn’t like the ones where he was reminded of the things they put them through in Siberia. It didn’t even force him to relive the terrible moments where they ordered them to take the lives of innocent people. He sighed heavily, pressing his thumb and forefinger into his eyes and trying to push out the lingering images. Turns out, even when he dreamed of the time before Hydra, it was still a fucking nightmare. Perhaps he wouldn’t get good dreams anymore. Perhaps he didn’t deserve them. 

He sat up, rotating his body so that his joints cracked loudly as the muscles released tension on them. A few pops in his neck helped relieve enough of the headache to make it a dull throb, instead of something that blinded him. It would fade eventually. The moon told him that Summer still had a few hours on her watch, but he figured if he was already awake, then he could take over now and give her a longer rest. She probably needed it, as she had awoken screaming the last time she slept. He pushed himself to his feet, checking to make sure his weapons were in place and his gun was loaded and functioning. The tin roof didn’t give away her position, but he knew that she could keep to one spot for an abnormal amount of time. He could already imagine the quiet creaking in her joints as she finally moved them after hours of staying still. 

What he expected was a half blonde, half brunette gargoyle, posed with a rifle. What he found was an empty rooftop. 

His blood went cold, the surge of adrenaline clearing any lingering pain from his body. The likelihood that she was gone for a harmless reason was very low. He pulled his rifle up, looking through the night vision scope and scanning the area for signs of his partner or the threat that pulled her from her post. With slow, steady steps he was able to move almost silently through the brush, the plants helping to hide him but also limiting his visibility. The breeze shifted, a whole bouquet of scents surrounding him and suffocating him. He cursed the humid air, his nose on overdrive as he tried to muddy his way through all the input. He couldn’t identify most of what was there, but he could at least smell Summer.

The crack of a stick echoed from somewhere to his left, and he swung the rifle around to assess the threat. He instantly recognized the way the person moved, his muscles relaxing just slightly even before the messy braid appeared in the scope. Summer was clearly on alert, so he didn’t lower his gun - he just moved to the side so that she could see where he was. 

“What is it?” he asked when she entered their little glade. She easily fit to his side, shoulder to shoulder and facing opposite directions, both of them still looking for the threat.

“Something’s off.” she responded. This was the worst kind of intel - the kind that simply came from their guts, stemming from something their bodies sensed but that their mind couldn’t process. “Smell it?” 

“I smell too many things right now.” he said truthfully. He hadn’t been conscious when the shift in the air happened, so he would have to rely on Summer. 

“We should-” she started to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of a gunshot. A moment later, the sickening  _ thud _ of a bullet tearing into a body assaulted their ears. Summer fell forward with the force of the shock, blood splattering over Winter’s metal shoulder before he could turn away. His arm shot out, trying to slow her descent as he looked around wildly for the shooter, even if he knew from the sound that he was far away. Summer let out a strangled gasp as she hit the ground and he ducked down next to her; protecting both of them would be more important at this point than locating the enemy. Once either her wound was dressed or she was dead, then he could move on to the next step. 

“Assessment.” he said quickly. Summer was on her back, her hand pressed to the part of her chest just before it met her shoulder. She took another gurgling breath and coughed, blood leaking from the corner of her mouth. The ground underneath her was starting to darken as well. “ _ Assessment _ .” 

“Through and through.” she said, her voice strained. She was applying ample pressure to the exit wound, and he tore a chunk of fabric from her t-shirt to apply to the entrance wound. She groaned as he roughly turned her, pressing the makeshift gauze to the hole in her back. “Lung involvement. Subclavian arteries and veins intact. Brachial plexus intact.” she paused to take a few breaths, the sound already better now that her enhanced healing was kicking in. “I’ll heal.” 

“I need to track down the shooter.” he said. She nodded, grimacing as she tried to push herself into a seated position. He roughly shoved her back down, making her grit her teeth in pain. Right now, it was to their advantage that the shooter knew he hit his target, but he did not know that the target would live. “Stay here and play dead, I’ll move.”

“I’m the better tracker.” she said, though she stayed in place on the ground. For the first time in a long time, he had the urge to roll his eyes. It wasn’t easily suppressed.

“I’m aware.” he said dryly, just a hint of attitude in his voice. “But you’re injured. I’ll take care of it and be back.”

She was set and ready to agree to his orders. But then the wind shifted again, and this time Winter understood what she was referring to earlier. Besides the distinct scent of another person, they could also vaguely hear the sounds of a quiet, steady pursuit. The enemy was no longer a sniper, but now a predator. And Winter was not used to being prey. 

“We have to separate.” she said softly, her voice a little stronger now. The bleeding hadn’t stopped and she was still limited, unable to use her left arm. Good thing she was right handed. He knew this was the logical choice; if they were together, it would be easier for the predator to take out both of them. Separated, they had a higher chance of tracking and trapping him. It was a plan they had enacted time and again. But for some reason, now he did not like the idea of leaving her while she was injured.    
  
“You go south. Recoup. I’ll go north.” he said, an emotion he couldn’t quite identify rising up in his chest. The shot had come from the north, and he wanted to be the first to find the shooter and eliminate him. The sight of the blood on Summer’s shirt intensified the feeling, and as he left her to begin his own chase he realized that the heat simmering behind his sternum was  _ anger _ . He didn’t look back as he heard Summer coming to her feet and go in the opposite direction. He holstered the rifle, instead choosing to rely on his senses, and pulled the machine pistol from his back and the knife from the sheath at his leg. He was likely going to have to take this enemy out at close range, and he would need both hands to do so.

The enemy knew that he’d been made, and his movements changed accordingly. Winter had an inkling who Hydra had sent after them; as long as it was just one soldier (and the sounds told him that it was) then he could probably take him out alone. After all, every other soldier of Hydra had been trained by the two of them. Yes, the death squad had further training, and were a better version of the super soldiers. But a lot could be said for experience, and spite, and the desperation to survive. He had to eliminate the enemy; Summer was already injured, he couldn’t allow further harm to come to her. 

The night got darker as rain clouds rolled in, the air getting sticky and electric as the thunderstorm started building. Far away, rain was already falling, adding another layer to the world around him. But while it made it more difficult for him to track the shooter, it also made it more difficult for the shooter to track him. They were getting close now, circling each other like lions in the wild, waiting for an opening to attack. Winter had a knot between his shoulder blades and lightning in his muscles, but he could keep his composure. The later soldiers were smart, and fast, and strong. But they were also impatient, often pushing themselves into battle too early and relying on their skills to get them through. They wanted to be done with the mission. No doubt his pursuer was also a little cocky; after all, the last time they’d seen each other, Summer and Winter had been beaten. But this time, things would be different. He’d fought them a thousand times. But they’d never fought against Winter when he had nothing to lose. 

The soldier’s steps were getting quicker. He was attempting to make his path erratic and unpredictable, but Winter could easily read the pattern. The later soldiers were able to keep more of their humanity, and the thing about humans was that they were creatures of habit. As long as he could wait him out, Winter would be able to read every movement as if it were telegraphed to him. 

The trees opened up to surround a dark, swampy pond. Winter felt exposed, knowing the limited light was shining off his white t-shirt and the metal of his arm. But he didn’t care. He wanted his opponent to see him and give himself away by engaging. No footsteps came from across the water, but he could hear a low  _ tap-tap-tap _ as the soldier fidgeted with his trigger, waiting for the shot. He was getting antsy, which was exactly how Winter wanted him. He would move fast, but he would move sloppy, and Winter hopefully would be able to outsmart and outlast him. 

He stopped behind a particularly thick tree, purposefully allowing his metal arm to show. Lightning flashed across the sky, allowing him to see the glass of a scope reflect from across the way. A single shot, quieter than the sniper rifle used earlier, sent a bullet ricocheting off his arm. A warning. The next time the lightning came, the scope reflection was to the right. The chess game had begun. Winter moved slightly, keeping the tree between him and where the scope last was, but slowly continued his movements to track where he felt the soldier was. The next flash of lightning told him his calculation was correct; he had approximately forty-two seconds until combat. He holstered his weapons and counted the seconds down, and with seventeen to go he dug his metal arm into the tree trunk and swung himself up, landing with quiet feet close to the middle. The leaves rustled no more than when the storm winds ran through them. Ten seconds. Five.

The soldier appeared beneath him, movements careful and rifle nose steady ahead of him. Winter perched on the branch, his right hand holding the branch above him and his left hanging down, the first line of defense. The soldier stopped right beneath him, a flash of light illuminating the dirty blond buzz cut. They both stopped for a beat, and right when thunder rumbled, the soldier swung his gun up and started shooting. 

Winter immediately put his hand in front of him, the bullets bouncing off the metal as he jumped from the tree. He felt the muzzle of the gun and, glad that the prosthetic didn’t register temperature, wrapped his hand around it and pushed it to the side, sending out his other fist so it connected with the soldier’s jaw. It was easy to pull the gun from him, but he didn’t even have the time to throw it into the water before a foot was planted in his ribs. The air left him, but there was no nerve palsy limiting him, so he was able to right himself in time to block and redirect the two punches that followed. Lightning showed the angry, dark eyes, focused on the fight. Winter didn’t know if the soldier’s orders were to kill or collect, but he was not going to find out. 

The sky opened up over them, dumping water down in a deluge. Winter, who had been living and moving in these elements for the past few days, took it in stride. But the soldier wasn’t ready for it. He kept having to blink as raindrops fell in his eyes or rolled down from his forehead. Winter knew the angle to keep his head so it soaked into his hair instead, and directed the fight so that the rain angled from his back. The soldier was striking in semi-blindness, but his punches were fast, and when they landed, Winter couldn’t deny that they hurt. He saw a glint in his hand brought his own to block the knife, batting it out of the way when the soldier tried to drop it to his other hand. Of course that didn’t stop him from pulling another knife from his belt, this one finding its home in Winter’s thigh. He let out a grunt of pain but managed to land a hit on the soldier’s forearm, forcing him to let go of the handle. Winter claimed the knife as his own, pulling it from his leg and slashing it forward. He felt as it met both air and his opponent, who was limited by all the skin surface area of his original limbs. 

“Can’t bleed me out, Winter.” the soldier growled. Winter recognized the voice, but didn’t care to place a name to it. This soldier meant nothing to him. The only person that mattered was Summer. 

He hoped by now that she was far south, actually resting and allowing her body to heal. There was a chance that this soldier was not alone, that he had an accomplice that had split from him just like Winter and Summer had. But he could not afford to think about that right now. Right now, he had to focus. 

The soldier pulled out two more knives, the blades moving in long, sharp arcs towards Winter. He could easily fend off one with the metal arm, but it was slightly more difficult to block knife to knife on his other side. Both of them were fatiguing, having to fight each other and the elements. The dry ground had quickly soaked up the pouring rain, turning into a sloppy, muddy mess. No matter how good their strength or balance or agility was, it was no match for wet ground and gravity. 

Winter knew the fight was about to end, but he wasn’t positive who would be the victor. If he didn’t end it soon, then it might not be him. He could only feel so many of the wounds the soldier had inflicted, and wasn’t looking forward to finding out how many his brain was blocking from him right now. The only positive thing was that his opponent looked just as messy as he felt. They rolled out close to the water’s edge, stumbling to a standstill. The air was so thick they could barely breathe, and neither of them could determine if the dripping they felt was from their blood or the rain. The soldier stood first, a pistol in his hand. Winter reached for his, but he’d lost it somewhere along the fight. He still had his knife, but that would be no match here. Here, he needed surprised. 

“You know you can’t beat me. You’re going to die, just like your blonde bitch.” he said. There was no scathing tone to him; he spoke with the cold nonchalance as if it were fact. His grip tightened on the handle of the gun, but Winter was watching his eyes. The soldier wanted to knock him sideways, make him emotionally compromised. Likely he’d been told that he and Summer were in fragile emotional states after being out of the ice for so long. He was wrong. He hadn’t had lucidity like this in a long time. 

The soldier clicked off the safety, and Winter moved with the clarity of a memory, lunging forward to form tackle the soldier into the water. The pistol went off, burning the skin from his back as the bullet glanced it. Winter was able to knock it away as they fell into the water, algae and moss blooming around them with the force. The taste of it was almost overwhelming, the need for survival the only thing keeping him from gagging and retching. He used his metal arm to hold the soldier underwater, using his weight to keep him submerged. The soldier thrashed, his fists bashing into Winter in an effort to make him let go. He had one knife left and sank it into him over and over, but Winter choose to ignore the wounds in favor of drowning him.

When he finally stopped moving, Winter stayed, waiting until he was sure the soldier was either dead or subdued enough for them to get away. He grabbed him by the collar of his kevlar, wading through the disgusting water and dragging him towards the middle. When he didn’t want to go further, he turned the soldier on his stomach; thanks to two lungs full of water and a disproportionate amount of muscle mass, he sank like a brick. Winter turned and waded out, the rain fading to a drizzle and finally stopping by the time he reached the semi-solid land. No sounds came from behind him, and he didn’t turn back to check. 

Now that the adrenaline was fading from his blood, the full extent of his injuries began to sink in. He had multiple stab wounds to his legs, arm, and torso, at least three ribs were broken, and one of his eyes was slowly beginning to swell shut. He hadn’t had a black eye in recent memory, but with all the other injuries, his body couldn’t keep up and prevent it. He could feel himself limping, feel as the blood kept draining from his body, but he kept going. Maybe it was truth and maybe it was just the damn stubbornness that they could never quite eradicate, but he thought he’d survived through worse before.

Light was just beginning to spill over the horizon when he made it back to the shack, his vision dark and blurry and his body in so much pain that he could no longer localize it. But he didn’t care about that. He would heal. He needed to get Summer, get a car, and get the hell out of dodge. The only thing standing in his way was the completely empty building. Where the fuck was Summer?

His body attempted to dump some more adrenaline into him, but his blood volume was so low that it just made everything shiny instead of hazy. He limped around the structure, thinking maybe she was just hiding somewhere waiting for him, but there was nothing living besides the plants attempting to take over the place. He collapsed against the wall, biting back a noise of pain as he and his wounds slid down it to sit on the wet, soggy ground. Perhaps Summer was just checking the perimeter, ensuring their safety. Perhaps she was setting traps, in case there were other assailants. 

Or perhaps her assessment had been wrong, and she’d bled out while he wasn’t there to help her.

Or perhaps another soldier had found her, and with her injury, she was unable to come out victorious.

Perhaps they’d already gotten her, and were dragging her back to Hydra.

Perhaps they were coming back for him.

Perhaps he would be dead before they got there.

He couldn’t help but hope for the last one, if that were the case. The more he remembered from the past seventy years, the more he realized an absolute truth: he would rather die than go back to Hydra. That was the thought he held onto as he drifted into unconsciousness, that no matter what, they would never have him again. 

His dreams took place in a golden fog, whether from swelling in his brain or just his neurotransmitters sending emergency signals left and right. He found himself in the rain again, but this time the sky was bright, and Summer was smiling in his arms as he leaned in for a kiss. She said something, but the words went in one ear and out the other. All he could focus on was how free she looked, how happy she was. And he felt happy too, though he couldn’t say why or even when this was. 

“You’re going to be okay.” she said, the first words he actually understood. For just a moment, he saw the Summer he knew before her face melted back to Lucille. The rain stopped, but the air was still cool. It wasn’t the stifling humidity from Florida. Her hands ran so gently over him, touching all the places that he hurt as if she had magic healing powers in her fingers. And things did seem to feel a little better, but that may have just been the optimism of the dream. She took his hands, gently leading him down the street. “Come on, we need to go.” 

He pulled her to him, putting a protective arm around her shoulders and feeling a warmth in his chest - different from the one earlier - as her arm slid around his waist. Shadows moved at the ends of the street, and he wanted to keep her away from them. She leaned heavily into him and he leaned back, both of them supporting each other as they walked. He didn’t know where they were going, and he found that he didn’t care, as long as they were together. 

They walked for a long time, his limbs getting heavier and the sunshine fading slowly. Soon it would be night, and time to sleep. Lord knew he needed it. “Rest now.” Summer told him, finding a bench on the sidewalk that he didn’t notice before. He followed her instruction, laying his head in her lap and sighing deeply as she ran her fingers through his hair in a slow, steady motion. “You’re going to be okay.” The light faded to darkness, and he was finally able to sleep. 

When he awoke, he knew he was back in his old body, and in the real world. He was still lying on his side, and was mildly surprised to find that his head was on Summer’s leg, though she was not giving him the soothing movements from before. He did not expect her to. 

“Where are we?” he asked, his voice gravelly and rough. He could feel where she’d stitched up his deep wounds, and where she’d covered the others. Wherever they were, the air felt tight and stale, though the humidity was better.

“On a ship.” Summer replied. “I dragged you on here.” 

“Where is it going?” he continued. He knew he should sit up, but he wanted to rest. His body was still fighting valiantly, trying to knit itself back together.

“I don’t know.” she replied. That should scare him, or make him panic. But while most of his dream had been at best a memory and at worst a lie, there was still one thing that reigned true: no matter what came at them, they could get through it, as long as they stuck together.


	13. Bet - September 13, 1943

**Chapter 13: Bet**

**September 13, 1943**

The camp was quieter than usual, which suited Lu just fine. A lot of times the servicemen would consider a quiet camp a bad omen, a calm before the storm, but she knew better than that. There were never any calms in the storm, only lulls between the tempests. A quiet camp meant no missions, which meant no injured soldiers, which meant she finally got to rest her weary hands and start storing energy for the next time things went to hell in a handbasket. 

She actually got more than just one shift off in a row now, a treat that she was certainly savoring. Something big was coming, she knew that - bigger than the forces that were supposed to join up with them to go on to Azzano, and bigger than whatever Washington was planning. She’d gotten the same feeling a little less than two years before, and this time she wasn’t going to try and fight it; instead, she was just going to roll with the punches as they came.

It was a sunny, warm Italian day, one that made her miss summer dresses and days on the beach. And even if she was still stuck in the mountains in her fatigues, it put her in a good mood to have the sun on her face and for once, no responsibilities, if only for a few hours. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and called on Angela to carry that attitude around camp, seeing what trouble they could get into. Perhaps today they didn’t have to be so serious. 

Angela was happy for the distraction, chattering away with gossip she’d picked up from the other nurses. Lu very rarely socialized, always keeping her sisters at arm’s length. But Angela had managed to slip through the cracks in her wall and became the little sister she never wanted, refusing to let Lu go without some sort of friendship. And, if she was honest, it was nice to have a friend. Especially one who seemed to always know who was dancing with who, and who got caught trying to sneak into the ladies’ barracks, and who had gotten into a fight and for what reason. Really it had all of the drama of her little paperback novels, though it missed the steamier bits. 

They spotted Barnes and part of his squad off ahead, boxes and rocks and buckets turned into makeshift chairs and arranged in a circle. Angela immediately straightened to her full height, subtly checking to make sure her curls were still somewhat together. Lu smirked, threading her arm through her friend’s.

“Come on. Let’s go see what those miscreants are up to.” she said, tugging her that direction. Usually she would avoid a gaggle of soldiers, but Barnes was actually a stand up guy, and he made sure every guy in his squad was too. Angela blushed heavily but tried to keep up a brave face, hoping for a bit of drama in her own life. 

“Well, well. Look who’s come out to see the sun.” Barnes said lightly, spotting them as they came near. Lu gave him an annoyed look, tucking Angela a little bit closer. 

“Someone has to make sure you don’t get into trouble.” Lu replied, coming to a stop on the edge of the circle.

“Oh, you taking that job on?” one of the other soldiers - Williams, his badge said - cut in with a smirk. Even if the boys were gentlemen, it didn’t mean they didn’t want attention. “That’s too much work.”

“Let me guess, it would be  _ so much easier _ with you?” Lu deadpanned, making the other soldiers laugh and Williams blush under his collar. Barnes grinned up at her, as if they were sharing a private joke; she wasn’t sure what it was, but she was glad to be included. She was past fighting the fact that he had a nice smile, or telling herself that she didn’t find him maddeningly handsome. But that didn’t mean she had to do anything about it.

“Nah,” Williams continued, trying to get back in. “I was just thinking of young Howard over here. Kid could use all the help he can get.” 

“I’m just fine on my own, thanks.” Howard said sharply, with a look that said he didn’t need the older man cutting him down in front of the pretty women. Lu thought the guy was cute, but that his eighteenth birthday probably passed while he was on the boat over here. She glanced over at Angela, trying to see if the girl had any response. But she was leaning over, looking at the cards in Barnes’ hands. 

“What are you boys playing?” she asked, her voice light and innocent. Lu knew that voice. Every woman had a version of it. 

“Poker. Or, as well as we can. We’ve lost a couple of the cards along the way.” he said, holding his hand up. Sure enough, he had a queen, an ace, a two of hearts and two fours of clubs. A mismatched deck was better than no deck at all. Lu smiled, glad that she’d helped unpack the new boxes they’d gotten from the Red Cross the day before.

“Looks like you could use a fresh pack.” she said, reaching into her pocket. She’d been planning on learning slap deck from Angela somewhere where they’d get a little sunburnt, but this would be a good use for the new box as well. “Good thing we got a little shipment in.”

“God bless the Red Cross!” another soldier named Murphy had the loudest exclamation of them all. Lu had the feeling that he kept losing and was blaming the deck for it. Barnes reached out to take the new pack of cards from her, but she moved it just out of reach.

“Ah, ah, Barnes. You know gifts don’t come for free.” she said, waving the box back and forth to taunt him with it. He perked an eyebrow at her, surprised that she was teasing him. Usually it was all business whenever they were around other people; she only let the mask slip in the spare moments where they found themselves alone. 

“What’ll it cost me?” he said confidently. He wanted to see how this was going to play out.

“A kiss?” Murphy asked, earning a slap on the back of the head from Williams.

“A shag?” Howard offered, and Williams used his other, stronger hand to knock Howard straight off his seat. Angela’s eyes widened but she didn’t say anything, instead just clutching Lu’s elbow a little tighter. It seemed she didn’t mind hearing the rowdy things that happened, but it was different when it was around her. Lu pinched her wrist; she couldn’t let the boys see her sweat, otherwise they’d eat her alive. 

“Not in a million years, Howard.” Lu said, making the soldiers hoot. Barnes gave her that same grin, and she felt something warm behind her sternum. “We just want to play.” 

“Well, now, this is a man’s game-”

“Do you dames even know how to play?”

“Now, now, lads,” Barnes interrupted the barrage of responses with a wave of his hand. Williams also looked unamused by the garbage these guys were spouting, but he was letting the sergeant handle it. “The lady named her price. Deal them in, I’ll sit out.” he said, standing up and gallantly dusting off his makeshift seat.

“Oh no, Sergeant Barnes, you don’t have to-” Angela stammered, her cheeks reddening. But Lu didn’t let her finish, instead pulling her down so they could share the box. She handed off the package of cards to Barnes, pretending not to notice his fingers barely brushing hers as he took it. The guys excitedly rounded up their cards as Barnes opened the new pack, handing them off to Williams to shuffle. 

“ _ Do _ you know how to play?” Barnes asked quietly, kneeling down next to them. Angela crossed her ankles, a mix between nervousness and excitation on her face at his proximity. She shook her head, looking to Lu to see if her answer was the same. Lu lifted one shoulder in a shrug; she knew the basics, but wouldn’t call herself a master poker player. 

“We could use a little assistance.” she said, making his grin widen. He took a knee next to her, ignoring all the smirks that his squad were sending his way. Williams deftly laid the cards out, and Lu and Angela picked up their five, choosing to share a hand rather than try and manage more cards. “What’s the ante?”

“Well, we were betting chores so...we’ll just go betless for a few rounds.” Murphy said, trying to send a flirty smile their way and instead allowing Howard next to him to see his cards. Lu just gave him a sarcastic grin in return.

“How kind of you.” she said flatly. Angela pinched her arm, giving her wide eyes when she looked to her. Oh, right. Be nice. These guys were just slightly above their average soldiers, perhaps she needed to treat them as such. Their looked at their cards - a two, a five, two nines, and a queen. Lu didn’t like the low cards and wanted to get rid of them; she put her fingers on them, looking to Angela (who shrugged) and Barnes (who nodded). When it was their turn, she put the two cards down and took the ones that Williams handed her with a perked eyebrow. The conversation stalled between the men for a moment but quickly resumed; it was easy to include the girls, since they understood a lot of the stuff they had to go through. And it was nice for the girls to talk to the soldiers when they weren’t bleeding out on the hospital table. 

“Alright, I call.” Murphy said around the unlit cigarette in his mouth. He tossed his cards down onto the table. “Two pair.”

“Pfft.” Howard said, putting his face down. “Fold. I ain’t got shit.” When Williams smacked his head again, he looked at Lu and Angela. “Sorry. I mean, I don’t have anything.”

“Oh my heavens,” Lu said, in an exaggerated Southern drawl. “I’ve never heard such language.”

“What does that word mean?” Angela added, using her big doe eyes to really sell her confusion. Barnes snorted as red began creeping up Howard’s neck again, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he fumbled for a response.

“Howard, how dare you say such a thing in the company of such delicate ladies.” Murphy said, appalled. Sure, Angela was a little more on the delicate side, but Lu was not, which made it all the funnier. Howard started catching on at that point, clenching his jaw at the ribbing.

“Man, fuck you guys.” he said, tossing his cards further into the pile and standing up so abruptly that the bucket he was using for a chair fell over. The guys called after him as he stalked away, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. Embarrassing him in front of his buddies was one thing, but embarrassing him in front of two of very few available women in the area? Apparently that was unforgivable.

“Is he okay?” Angela asked, looking to Barnes. He gave her one of his more charming smiles, and even if it wasn’t directed at Lu, she still felt its effect. 

“Don’t worry, Angie, he’ll be just fine.” he said. He reached over and touched their cards, the sleeve of his uniform touching Lu’s wrist. It was probably an accident, but she noticed it all the same. “Why don’t you answer Murphy’s call and show him how to play this game, hm?”

“If you think we should.” Angela said with a grin. Lu didn’t like that grin, but she answered it with one of her own anyway. Angela nudged her with her elbow, and Lu put the cards down on the table. 

“Three of a kind. That’s pretty good, right?” she asked, lacing her voice with sarcasm. Murphy let out a groan, and a low whistle came from Williams. Barnes looked like he’d won the game himself - which he had, somewhat. 

“Not bad, girls. Not bad.” Williams said, and Lu could practically feel the  _ but _ coming next. Sure enough, “But not quite good enough.” He laid down his cards, showing how all his cards were decorated with little diamonds. 

“Dammit.” Lu said, crossing her arms over her chest. Williams and Murphy both busted out laughing at the sentiment, looking after Howard to see if he was close enough to hear. But he was long gone, off to sulk in some other area of camp. 

“Man’s a cheater if I ever saw one. Check his sleeves.” Barnes said, pulling the empty bucket-chair over so he could sit again. Williams narrowed his eyes, smacking at Murphy as he reached towards him.

“Who told you that?” he asked, pretending to be both offended and irate. “Katharine? Emily? Joanne? They are full of untruths.”

“Women never lie.” Lu shot back, half in jest and half defensive. Murphy held up a finger, like a professor about to prove a theorem.

“Well, actually-” he started, before Barnes interrupted him.

“Murph, don’t start something you can’t finish.” he said, giving him a pointed look. Murphy paused with his mouth open, his eyes flicking between Angela and Lu.  _ Go on, _ their faces said.  _ Enlighten us _ .

“On second thought, perhaps I was mistaken.” he said, gathering the cards and starting to shuffle them. A low, droning noise sounded from far away; it was quiet, so quiet that no one seemed to notice it except for Lu. She sat up a little straighter, a facade of calm on her face as she tried to see where the planes were. Barnes may not have noticed the noise, but he certainly noticed how her demeanor changed, and then he noticed servicemen gravitating towards the other edge of camp. They weren’t running, weren’t answering to threats or alarm bells, but something was going on.

“Hey, private!” Barnes said, getting the attention of one of the soldiers walking by. Now, the sounds of aircrafts were louder and distinct. The soldier skidded to a stop, standing at attention when he noticed it was a sergeant that called to him. Barnes waved him to be at ease. “What’s going on?”

“Air force is flying over on the west side,” he said, forgetting to add a  _ sir _ onto the end of his sentence. “Supposedly it’s some new plane, some new formation. I think everyone’s just going to check it out.”

“Thanks. As you were.” Barnes said. Murphy and Williams both stood, the cards long forgotten.

“Oh, I’ve never seen a flyover.” Angela said, standing as well. Lu stayed in her seat, her lips pressed together. She was hoping they would pay her no mind, and go to see the planes. Murphy held out his elbow, earning an eye roll from Williams. 

“Allow me to escort you then.” he said. Angela spared a glance at Barnes before taking him up on his offer. “Barnes? Lucille? You guys coming?”

“I’ll just stay here.” Lu said, surprised at how even her voice came out. She gave as natural a smile as she could, but it still felt forced. “I’ve seen enough flyovers to last a lifetime.” 

“I’ll keep her company.” Barnes said with a shrug. Casual. Nonchalant. She looked at him and went to tell him to go, to watch the planes, to spend the time with his squad. But he didn’t look back at her; instead, he just picked up the cards, organizing them and shuffling them some more. It was an unusual amount of time before he finally met her gaze. “Fancy another round?”

“I don’t think you can play with two people.” she said, then immediately wanted to smack herself. Why must she always say the logical thing first, instead of the normal, human response? Barnes let out a breath that counted as a laugh, not stopping his movements.

“If I remember correctly, two is the minimum required to play.” he pointed out. The planes were getting closer, and Lu crossed her legs and held her arms in close to herself, trying to make herself small. It was an involuntary change in posture, but Barnes definitely noticed. He dealt the cards, leaving the deck between them and turning to face her. He was just close enough that the toes of their shoes were touching. More servicemen passed by but paid them no mind, hellbent on getting to the west side of camp. Lu picked up her cards, annoyed that her hand was shaking just a bit. Barnes pretended not to notice that. “What should we wager?”

“Thought we were playing without wagers.” she said, looking at the cards without seeing them. Barnes looked at her over his, his blue eyes striking enough to distract her for a moment.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked with a grin. Lu thought for a moment, her mind actually splitting for a second. 

“How about cigarettes?” she asked. It was about the only thing worth trading around camp, unless the Red Cross sent chocolate bars - which, this time, they did not. Barnes made a face that said  _ come on _ , clearly not approving of her offer. 

“We share those anyway.” he said. He wasn’t wrong. A devilish smirk appeared on his face, one that made her suspicious. “What about a kiss?”

“Now that would be improper.” she said with just enough bite in her voice to hide the fact that she was both nervous and excited at the prospect. She was past the point of denying her attraction to Barnes, but they were there to do a job. If they both made it out of this war, perhaps she would consider giving in to it. Her response just made him smirk.

“Doesn’t have to be right now. Can be collected at the winner’s discretion.” he said, putting down two cards and picking two more up from the deck. It sounded like he’d been thinking about this for a while. She eyed him over her hand, trying to figure out what he was going for.

“What kind of lady do you take me for?” she asked, allowing her ‘fake’ Southern drawl to shine through again. The planes were close enough now that she felt like she could feel them, though that was probably just the panic that she was trying to shove down. The smile never left his face.

“A smart one.” he said. There was something in his tone that made her want to rise to the challenge.

“Fine. A kiss it is then.” she said. Miles away, one of the plane engines kicked back. She blamed the skip in her heartbeat on that, rather than this bet. She traded two of her cards for new ones. Barnes just smiled, making his own moves with his cards.

“You’ve seen a lot of flyovers?” he asked. She knew he was being polite, trying to make conversation. He just didn’t realize he’d asked the wrong question. 

“Too many.” she said shortly. She didn’t want to talk about Pearl. She didn’t want to  _ think _ about Pearl. But every time the planes came by, she was taken back to that morning against her will. She put down a card, taking another one from the deck. She wasn’t particularly focused on what was in her hand, but it was nice to at least have something to look at instead of searching the sky for bombers. He was quiet, waiting for her to elaborate. “Used to be in the Navy.”

“Damn. Good thing you switched, those sailors are trash.” he said, making her laugh. It wasn’t completely natural, but it was close enough. She was hoping he wasn’t going to ask many more questions about it. 

“What did you do? Before this?” she asked. Now the planes really were close enough to feel them, and she squeezed herself tighter. The pressure helped relieve some of the panic rising in her chest, pushing it down before it could escape. 

“I was a police officer, in New York.” he said, and while she figured she should be surprised, she really wasn’t. That felt like the right thing for him to be doing. “I was actually close to making detective, thanks to the whole ‘draft’ thing.” 

“So you weren’t actually a good policeman?” she asked, once again regretting her comeback. Would it kill her to be nice to him like a normal woman? She’d spent so long spurning the advancements of the lonely soldiers around her that she’d forgotten what to do when she actually liked one. Luckily he just chuckled, shaking his head.

“Of course not. They celebrated the day I got my ticket.” he replied. The planes had reached them now and Lu fell silent, squeezing her eyes shut and holding her breath. That was a mistake; with her eyes closed she could see the flashes again, hear the sounds of alarm as the whole base was thrown into disarray. Barnes reached out, laying a gentle hand on her wrist. The touch was comforting and warm, pulling her just enough to keep her from completely losing her mind. They stayed that way until the planes passed, the droning going away from them without any sounds of bombing in between. Lu let out the breath she’d been holding, blinking to get rid of the stars in her eyes. Her knuckles were white on the hand gripping her cards, fissures in the paper from how tight she held it. She looked up, defensive, ready to guard against whatever Barnes had to say about her episode. But he was looking at her with concern, and a level of it which she was not ready to acknowledge. She cleared her throat and leaned back, putting some space between them.

“Call.” she said, her throat raw. She felt open, exposed, vulnerable. She was supposed to be tough and unflappable, not some silly girl that lost her head at the sound of airplanes. She looked down at her cards and realized too late that her hand was complete and utter shit.

“Okay.” Barnes said. Something flashed across his face - hurt, maybe? Or chagrin? - but it was gone in an instant. He made one last trade of his cards, then laid them down. A two, a three, a five, a nine, and a jack. Lu felt relief wash over her. 

“Read ‘em and weep.” she said, laying her hand face up. The only thing that made hers better was the highest card - a queen. His smile this time was small and affectionate.

“Guess you’re in control of our destiny then, hm?” he asked. Most men would have hated the fact that they lost to a woman, let alone that they lost when a kiss was on the line. Lu almost wanted to just collect then, so it wasn’t hanging over them. But she had to admit that it felt nice to have control over something, even if it was something so trivial as this - especially after the past few minutes.

“When you least expect it, expect it.” she said, giving him what she hoped was a flirtatious smile. The planes were long gone now, and she was left exhausted. He smiled back, then pushed himself into standing with a groan.

“You’ve got night shift tonight, right?” he asked, dusting off his pants. Again he impressed her, remembering her schedule. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to the barracks so you can get a nap in.”

“I appreciate it.” she replied, hoping she sounded as genuine as she felt. Barnes was a rock, something solid to hold her here. Again, the sensation of affection swelled in her chest, and this time it was harder to push down. She knew too many women that fell in love with soldiers and ended up in pieces; she could not be one of them. Besides, Barnes probably didn’t even feel the same way. The kiss was just him being a man...right?

She reached over and gathered up the cards, slowly organizing them all in the same orientation. As she slipped them back into the package she realized that the top three cards - the ones that Barnes had traded at her call - were all kings, their little blue faces staring back at her. He’d had a winning hand, and thrown it away. 

She didn’t want to admit it, but it almost looked like Barnes was starting to harbor some feelings for her too. 


	14. Overwhelm - July 18, 2014

**Chapter 14: Overwhelm**

**July 18, 2014**

Summer wished she’d gathered more information about the shipping schedule before she dragged Winter’s unconscious body aboard. She thought they would spend a few days at sea, or at most a week - and they could have, if she’d picked a better route - but it took twenty-nine days before they reached a port that wasn’t going to dump them back in the middle of the fire or close enough for Hydra to catch their scent. After stopping in Houston, Savannah, Norfolk, Antwerp, and Hamburg, the ship finally came to rest in London. Summer didn’t know why she felt this was the place for them to disembark; perhaps it was because people were speaking English, or perhaps it was because both of their wounds had finally healed, or perhaps because she was simply tired of having to hide every time the ship was loaded and unloaded. Either way, London was where they took their leave. 

They’d been in London before, she knew that. Most of the streets and buildings were different that when she was there last, but in general it felt familiar. The people were busy, walking brusquely along the sidewalks with white buds in their ears, their eyes looking without seeing as they made their way to wherever they were going. Summer tucked her hair (now blonde again after the color was stripped by sea water) into a baseball cap and her hand into Winter’s elbow, acting every bit a couple on a romantic stroll to some unknown destination. Public displays of affection made people uncomfortable, and they were more likely to look away. 

They needed to regroup. Now they knew that Hydra was hunting them down, sending other soldiers to track and recover them. They had begun their planning to go on the offensive, to take down whatever bunkers they could find, but as good as they were together they couldn’t cover all the bases. They couldn’t look ahead and over their shoulders at the same time. Summer procured them a short term lease on a tiny studio apartment behind a coffee shop, one that had a separate entrance and multiple vantage points. It was easy to set up traps that would slow down anyone coming too close, and best of all the landlord did not live on site. It would give them time to develop a new plan. 

“They’ll send more.” Summer said the first morning in the new place. The sun was barely rising, and the light coming through the sheer curtains was extra grey thanks to the cloud coverage. It wasn’t like the rain they experienced in Florida, weighing them down and sticking to their skin. This rain came with a chill that settled into their bones, and despite the sign of weakness, Summer often wrapped herself in a sweatshirt to try and thaw herself. Now that she was allowed to have an opinion, she found she preferred to be too warm than too cold.

“Yes.” Winter said from the small table that came with the apartment. He had a world map spread across it, the paper edges hanging off the sides of the table. With a red marker he was carefully laying an  _ X _ on every place they knew Hydra had a fort. Whether they were going to use that to attack or to avoid was unclear yet. “What do you think?”

Summer was silent for a long time, carefully cracking eggs into a pan on the small stove top as she considered his question. “I want to survive.” she finally said. If they had an end goal, they could work backwards to formulate a plan. She hadn’t uttered the word  _ want _ in decades it seemed, at least not out loud. She chanced a glance over her shoulder, expecting judgement from Winter. But he simply nodded, laying down another mark on the map.

“I agree.” he said. His voice was gentle as he said it, and the tone and his compliance made something burn inside her. She didn’t understand the emotion, but she also couldn’t dwell on it, because if that was going to be their end goal then there was something else they needed to discuss.

“If we are separated again, or if I am captured,” she started, trying to keep her voice neutral despite the fact that she was nearly choking on her words. “promise that you won’t risk your freedom for me.”

“Negative.” he said shortly, the harshest he’d been since whatever hold Hydra had on them had been knocked loose. “We will only survive together.”

“I won’t have you go back because of me. It’s not logical.” Summer said, turning to look at him fully. There was fire in her eyes, shining even in the low light. 

“What I choose to do is not up to you.” he replied. Even now, he did not want to relinquish being in charge. She kept her gaze even and unblinking.

“I will not come after you.” she said, her insides twisting so much that for a moment she thought she might be sick. “If they take you, I will turn and I will run. I am not going back. And you should not either.”

“I do not believe that.” he said, calling her bluff.

“I won’t.” she said, though she wasn’t exactly sure what she was replying to with those words. Regardless of their truth, she felt her stubbornness rise up. He needed to see that, while they did need to depend on each other to maintain their new freedom, losing each other was better than both of them going back. 

“You stayed with me once.” he said, returning her glare with one of his own. “Have you remembered yet?” 

“No.” she said. It wasn’t a complete lie; she only had bits and pieces, and the circumstances under which they had arrived at Hydra weren’t completely clear to her yet. But apparently Winter had remembered it all. He stood up, ignoring his project with the map. 

“I fell. From a train.” he said, taking slow, deliberate steps toward her. Summer nodded; she remembered that much, remembered seeing his body falling from the height.  _ Who fell? _ That’s what she’d screamed into the communication device, the one the size of a brick.  _ Who was that? _

“I know.” she replied, hoping that would stop his explanation. But he only stepped closer to her, seeming to take up even more of the space than usual. His face was somewhere between the Winter she knew and the man he used to be, and it made her feel something between nervous and excited.

“I fell into the river, and was taken downstream. I thought I was lost.” he continued. She either didn’t know this part or didn’t remember it, and she didn’t really want to figure out which one it was. “But you were able to track me down.”

“I was always a better tracker than you.” she said. Facts and logic were the only thing she could hold on to right now as her emotions started bubbling. Emotions were volatile, unstable. They would not help her right now, and it almost made her angry that Winter was so clearly giving in to his.

“You pulled me from the river. You tried to hide me, but the soldiers saw us. They moved too fast.” he said. He was right in front of her now, so close that she could see the stubble on his cheeks and smell the scent of the sea that still clung to his jacket. “You could have left me. But you did not.” 

“That was a long time ago.” she countered, trying to hold on to her argument. Didn’t he see that she was not saying these things because she wanted to be apart from him? Didn’t he understand how Hydra would just put them against each other again? She was doing it to save him. “A lot has happened since then.” 

He raised his hand, but she was not afraid he would hit her. She was, however, surprised when he gently laid it against her cheek. His palms and fingers were rough and calloused from years of fighting and training and weapons, but for a brief moment she felt like she was looking at James Buchanan Barnes. “I will not lose you again.” 

“Don’t you understand?” she asked urgently, her voice loud in the quiet flat. “If you come after me, you lose not only me but yourself as well.” She framed it in his view, as if seeing him as the true soldier and not the man she’d been remembering for the past two months wouldn’t shatter what little spirit she’d managed to gain back. She would rather die than be the soldier again, but somehow the thought of Winter being captured because of her seemed like a fate worse than death. 

“We live together, or we die together.” he said. The words sounded like something she’d heard before, but the memory was gone before it was even above a whisper. She shook her head.

“Promise me. If they take me, you leave. You  _ live _ .” she said urgently, grabbing the front of his t-shirt. They were close, so close, close enough that other memories started swirling in her brain of his hands on her back, his lips on her neck-

“I won’t.” he said, interrupting her thoughts. But his breath was short, and his eyes slightly dilated. She wondered if this was another moment where they were remembering the same thing at the same time. She quickly grabbed the small paring knife from the counter, and in a flash it was placed against his throat. He neither flinched nor shied away from it; both of them knew her threat was empty.

“Promise me.” she said. The words hung between them, weightier than the threat from her knife. The metal plates of his arm clicked as he lifted his hand to hers, pulling the knife away without any resistance. His chest was touching her, their faces so close that their breath mingled in the space between. She felt an overwhelming desire to press her mouth to his, to allow her senses to be overrun and to sink into some of the few good memories that were sticking around at the same time they made new ones. She wanted him close to her, against her,  _ inside  _ her- 

The smell of burning assaulted their senses, and she abruptly pulled away to shove the pan with the eggs off the burner. He easily caught the handle and turned to drop them into the sink, turning the water on high to cool the pan and rinse away the offensive odor. Whatever moment they’d had passed, though her heart continued to hammer against her sternum as if he were still right there next to her. She could still feel warmth where his hands had been on her and she moved away from him, gathering what money they had from the counter and going towards the door. She didn’t need to tell him that she was going to find them more food, and she kept her eyes down as she left despite the fact that she could feel him watching her every step as she walked out the door. 

The cool air helped to calm her nerves and clear her head.  _ Need a cold shower?  _ She didn’t know if the words were something she’d said, or something said to her. She ignored the coffee shop they lived behind and took off down the street, walking with the same purposeful steps that most everyone else had. She passed fast food joints and convenience stores, all of which smelled plastic to her. The coffee shops seemed overrun with patrons, trying to get fuel for their morning commutes. She kept turning onto smaller and smaller streets until finally she found a quiet bakery with just a single young woman manning the till. Her counter was small, and Summer realized that it wasn’t a full bakery, just a bread shop. That would explain why she didn’t feel like she was drowning in sugar like in most bakeries. 

“Good morning!” the woman said, trying to be chipper despite the early hour. She held a large mug of tea and leaned against a stool, probably taking a break from making bread so early in the morning. It also probably didn’t help that she was carrying extra weight in her belly, the little heartbeat inside so strong and developed that Summer could hear it underneath the mother’s slow, steady one.

“Good morning.” she replied, matching the woman’s accent easily. She quickly assessed the options on the shelf, her eyes coming to rest on a loaf that was wide and relatively short, the edges crisp from oil on the baking sheet. She remembered bread like that, remembered hiding with Winter as they put herbs on it and laughed about having good food for the first time in a long time. “Could I have some focaccia please?”

“Of course.” the woman said, easing off her perch with a groan and setting her mug down. “Plain? Herbed? Three cheese?” 

Summer was taken aback at the apparent options, but quickly schooled her face back to neutral. “Just plain, please.” she said. It was the only one in the display; she assumed the other two were hidden under the counter. The woman perked an eyebrow.

“You seem uncertain about that.” she teased. Summer knew she was kidding, but did not know how to respond to it.

“I’m very certain.” she said. The woman paused before lifting one shoulder in a shrug, going to put the plain bread in a bag. But then she surprised Summer by reaching below the case, adding two more pieces to her order. “I don’t need-”

“I’m just giving you options.” she said happily. She was obviously uncomfortable with every movement she made thanks to the baby, but she still managed to do everything with a smile. Summer felt a tug at the corner of her lips; women always tended to be so much more resilient than the world gave them credit for, herself included. 

“Thank you.” she replied, sincere. The more time she spent in the world, the more choices it gave her. Sometimes it overwhelmed her, but right now it just made her feel spoiled. She wasn’t used to it, and didn’t want to know when the other shoe was going to drop. 

“You’re welcome.” the woman said. She had one hand under her stomach as she rang up the total, supporting the weight of her coming infant. Summer had seen many women like her before, remembered the way they moved and how their bodies didn’t quite seem to function appropriately. 

“When are you due?” she asked, realizing too late that that was not a proper question to pose. Her chagrin must have showed on her face, because the woman gave her a knowing grin and chose not to comment on her social blunder. 

“Any day now.” she answered, accepting the cash and Summer handed over and counting up her change. “Just as well, she has long overstayed her welcome.”

“It’s a girl?” Summer asked, taking the coins and the bread from her. She didn’t know why she was asking these questions, the information was neither useful nor important. 

“Yes. First kid. Kinda nervous, you know? The whole parenthood thing sounds difficult.” she rambled, picking up her cup of tea and getting back on her stool. “Sorry, don’t mean to unload on you.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure you will do well. You’re young, healthy, and active, which leads to better odds of a smooth delivery.” she said. She felt a prickle between her shoulder blades, as if a sniper had his sight trained on her. She was sharing information and wasting time. Why was she doing that? But the woman perked up at her statement.

“Are you a doula?” she asked. Her voice sounded...hopeful? Summer couldn’t quite tell, but either way she shook her head. 

“No I...used to be a nurse.” she said, the paper bag crinkling as she gripped it tightly. Again, oversharing information. She stepped towards the door, needing to remove herself from the situation. “Thank you. For the bread.”

“And thank you for the business and encouragement.” the woman said. She was all smiles, and seemed relatively innocent. She reminded Summer of someone, but she couldn’t quite place the memory. It was a sharp contrast, stepping back into the cold outside, and Summer tucked herself further into her sweatshirt as she took the winding walk back to the flat, using different streets than when she first found the bakery. The apartment no longer smelled of burnt food when she returned thanks to whatever measures Winter had taken, and she was glad for it. She didn’t need anything else muddling her senses right now.

He was back at the table, carefully annotating the map. Once again, she felt a flicker of some sort of feelings towards him, and the way he looked at her said that something had changed in him as well. He folded it up carefully, putting it aside so there was room for her to put down the food. Two cups of coffee were on the window sill, and he moved them to the table top, leaving room for the bag that Summer brought. She arranged the bread in front of them, watching his face to see if he recognized it. He reached for it, his brows pinching together as his brain worked. She got a piece for herself as well, her hand just barely brushing his as she confidently picked it up. She felt a shock where their skin touched, though it wasn’t static electricity. It was something internal, something deeper. If Winter felt it, he didn’t say anything, just tucking in to their breakfast. But underneath the table he shifted his leg so that it easily, casually, rested against hers. Her nerves were alight, buzzing underneath her skin, and the epicenter was where they touched. Winter kept calmly eating, seemingly unaware. 

That night, she didn’t have nightmares. No, that night she had dreams of warm skin on hers, of a body close, of someone holding her securely, tenderly,  _ lovingly _ . She dreamed of a different kind of torture, one that ended in a sweet release instead of pain. She dreamt of feelings that her mind and body had forgotten. And at the center of it all was Winter.


	15. Enemy Lines - October 1, 1943

**Chapter 15: Enemy Lines**

**October 1, 1943**

It was a clear, warm morning. The Italian countryside was a rainbow of reds and greens and golds as autumn gently rolled in from the north, and with it came a breath of new beginnings. Unfortunately, those beginnings were not good.

Bucky leaned against one of the posts of the command tent, waiting with the other officers and squad leaders as their CO took his time fiddling with papers at the front. They didn’t know whether he was waiting for someone specific or if he was just putzing around for dramatic effect, but either way they were all getting restless and nervous and frustrated. Something was about to change, and Bucky just wanted to know what it was. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the CO stacked his papers together and set them down, resting his hands on the table and looking out at the crowd. Bucky idly noticed that he wasn’t meeting any of their eyes. The room quieted to an unnatural stillness, waiting for whatever he was going to say.

“Azzano has been overrun.” he said. His normally flat voice actually had some gravity to it, betraying how heavy the situation was. He wasn’t done. “And reinforcements aren’t coming. At least, not to us.” There it was. Bucky almost left right then, not wanting to hear anything else. He knew what was coming next, and it meant it was time for him to make his peace with this world. “We are the closest forces. We need to move immediately, and hold the line so they don’t get further into Italy.” 

Nobody moved.

No one wanted to go and tell their men that they were going into the belly of the beast. No one wanted to tell them that they were the last line of defense. The CO expected them to put on a brave face and give their squads a rousing speech and convince them that they weren’t going to certain death. They were supposed to hold their chins up and believe what they said, because otherwise the men would see right through them. Their minds were to be focused on one thing and one thing only: the battle in front of them.

But all Bucky could think of was Lu. He got a sudden vision of her waiting in the hospital, wondering if he was going to return. Would she be noticeably worried, enough that Angela would ask what was on her mind? Or would she just pace between the rows of beds, listening for any sounds of a convoy coming back? The people around him started to move, getting their orders from the officer at the front yelling squad numbers and locations. Bucky listened just long enough to get his marching orders before turning sharply on his heel and walking out of the tent. He knew he needed to gather his squad, but first he needed to pay a visit to the med tent. If he was going to die, then he was going to make sure she knew how he felt about her.

The med tent was moving with chaotic grace. Each person knew exactly what they were supposed to be doing, but had to contend with every  _ other _ person that was trying to do their job. His eyes scanned the room quickly, clocking each face of every nurse and physician, but he couldn’t find Lu. There was a moment of panic, and he started looking for Angela - surely she would know where her counterpart was - but he couldn’t find her either. He backed out before anyone took notice of him, moving around back to find a whole other group of medical professionals artfully packing Jeeps. And there, at the center of it all, was his angel. He would never call her that out loud, of course, but he could think it as much as he wanted. She spotted him, and something in her face made his heart jump into his throat. Why were they packing up? She tore her eyes away from his, turning to say something to Angela before making a bee line for him. As she got closer, he recognized the look. She was scared. As she stopped in front of him he realized her hair was completely pulled back, and instead of her white uniform she had on the olive green field fatigues.

“Doc. What’s going on?” he asked lowly, his heart beat rising with each bag that got tossed onto the back of a truck. She rolled her lips in for a second, taking a measured breath before finally bringing herself to answer.

“They’re sending a field team out with you guys.” she said. She sounded slightly breathless, trying in vain to control her emotions. He’d never seen her like this before, and it only made him more worried.

“No. No that’s a bad idea. You...you guys could get hurt.” he said. His half-assed speech that he’d tried to piece together on his walk over here crumbled immediately, replaced by concern over this turn in events. She blinked, surprised by his response, though unsure why. 

“It’s our orders.” she said, straightening up to her full height in an effort to seem brave. His heart swelled with affection for her, overcoming his fear just enough that it was reduced to a simmer in his stomach.

“It’s gonna be okay.” he said. She’d seen horrors that he would never experience, and was as acquainted with death as any of the soldiers here. But she’d never been out on the battlefield, and that was a completely different world. “I’m gonna take care of you - I’ll protect you-”

“You can’t promise that, Barnes.” she said. She meant for her voice to be stern, but it came out quiet and defeated. She may not know battle, but she knew how war worked. 

“Well I’ll try my damnedest.” he replied, taking hold of her hand. The gesture was unprofessional at best and improper at worst, but she allowed it, not wanting to let go of the warmth. “I’m too stubborn to die, and I know you’re gonna outlive me on spite alone so-”

“You’re an idiot.” she said, looking away from him so that he couldn’t see how glassy her eyes were getting. She blinked back the emotions, taking a second to compose herself before turning back to him. “You realize then that you’re not allowed to do anything stupid.”

“Since when have I done anything stupid?” he asked, making her laugh and roll her eyes.

“You do stupid things all the time!” she exclaimed, holding on to this brief moment of normalcy before their entire world was knocked sideways. He grinned at her, squeezing her hand tighter.

“Name one stupid thing I’ve done.” he said, and her jaw dropped in response. 

“Just one?” she asked incredulously. “How about the time you got shot. Or the time you nearly died from infection-”

“That wasn’t my fault!”

“Maybe not, but I’m sure it could be. Or the time you got blown up-” 

“Again, not my fault!”

“You  _ shot _ a  _ grenade _ -”

“Well yea, to blow up Nazis-”

“Or the time you decided to-”

“Okay, okay, okay, you made your point.” he said. He looked her in her eyes, watching as the mirth drained from her face. He squeezed her hand one more time. “Keep a sharp eye out, okay? You’re smart. You can stay one step ahead.”

“If you stay one step ahead, I can stay two.” she said, her voice barely above whisper. He glanced down at her lips, a little extra pink from her biting them all morning. He wondered what it would be like to kiss her. But the chance for that would just have to be his reason to keep fighting. He gave her a half grin, letting go of her hand just so he could place it on her cheek. There was no powder on her skin - they must have called the girls so early that they didn’t have time to put on any makeup. He still found her beautiful.

“Atta girl.” he said. She rolled her eyes, the movement allowing her to lean her cheek further into his touch. The tender moment couldn’t last, one of the nurses calling her back over to help continue loading the trucks. She pulled away from him, a caution on her lips, but she abandoned it after deciding it would be bad luck. He watched her go before turning himself, traversing the long walk across camp to go tell his men the bad news. 

Later, he would say that he didn’t remember talking to his men. He would say that the whole afternoon and evening was a blank space in his brain. But the truth was he remembered every second of it. He remembered the look on Howard’s face when he broke the news. He could still hear the harsh clacking as Williams put his rifle back together, the parts cleaned and oiled. Murphy was the last one into the truck, crossing himself in hopes that God would protect him. Every bump in the road was engraved into his brain, with the sound of the truck carved in like an endless record on repeat. For a long time, all he could hear was gunshots and the sound of the truck. 

The sun had already started setting by the time they reached the front, painting the sky bloody shades of red and purple. “A red sky don’t bode well.” Murphy said. No one responded; no one knew how to. They could hear the  _ pop-pop-pop _ in the distance as guns sang their staccato chorus, calling them all home. There was no time for a pep talk, no time for last goodbyes, no time for bets on who could take out the most enemies. A mortar landed at the front truck, exploding underneath it and throwing it onto its side. The other trucks skidded to a stop, soldiers spilling out of their depths and organizing like the well oiled machine the movies said they were. Too bad another mortar landed, throwing all the nuts and bolts and cogs into complete disarray. There were no squads, no groups - it was now just one team versus another. 

Bucky heard the shouts of the other men and took off running. The men behind him needed him, yes, but the men in front of him needed him more. He could hear the whistling of the mortars as they sailed through the air, and dodged accordingly. He ignored all advice and protocol and climbed to the top of a hill, pausing to get his bearings and get a sense of the situation.

Turns out, the situation was shit. 

Flames consumed the entire village, most of the buildings already crumbled to nothing but charred masses in the dark. Soldiers in the same black armor that he saw during his mission with Falsworth moved in steady steps, guns trained and finding their targets. Bucky brought up his rifle and dropped to the ground, hoping that he hadn’t given his position away. He took a breath and held it, forcing his heart rate to slow down and his hands to steady. The ground was solid underneath him, holding him, supporting him. Despite the bedlam in front of him, he noticed that the grass was unusually soft. 

The smoke gave him a good idea of the wind, making his adjustments that much faster. He didn’t think about the hundreds of soldiers in front of him, instead just picking one of them. The force moving in such a steady, synchronized motion definitely helped the intimidation factor, but it also made it very easy to track where they were going. Bucky picked his one, analyzed his path, and took the shot. The bullet sank into his neck, the blood of his carotid spurting black thanks to the wall of flames behind him. One soldier down. 

He took out seven more before he started spotting allied fatigues spilling onto the field, the olive drab turning brown in the firelight. He put up his rifle and pushed himself to his feet, running back down the hill before going around and joining the other men in the fray. Everything was worse down here, much worse than he thought when he was up on the hill, much worse than any battle he’d been in before. 

The tell-tale whistle sounded again, forcing him to cut to the left and jump into a mortar trench. He leaned his back against the high side, taking a moment to catch his breath and look back behind him. There were fewer soldiers that way than he thought there would be; the enemies must have been aiming their bombs very well. There was no sign of Howard or Williams or Murphy or any of the other guys in his squad, which added another layer of fear onto him. Another man collapsed in the trench with him, and Bucky had to take a second look before he realized the man was wearing a bowler hat instead of a helmet. Dugan.  _ Son of a bitch _ . 

“There’s gotta be five mortar companies out there!” he yelled, his voice cracking since he had to be so loud. Bucky didn’t know if he was stating a fact or lodging a complaint, but either way it wasn’t particularly helpful. Another man joined them - Bucky knew his last name was Jones, but his first name escaped him at that moment.

“Any word on backup?” he yelled back. Everything was falling apart, he needed to find his men, he needed to find-

“That might be tough!” Jones yelled back, holding up his radio and showing off how it had a few holes in it that it hadn’t had previously. 

“Bucky! Behind you!” Dugan called, and Bucky didn’t even take a second to think about how they really weren’t good enough friends yet for him to refer to him as  _ Bucky _ before turning and sighting every black uniform he could find. A blast nearby shook his feet, and a stray bullet actually took the bowler hat off of Dugan’s head. Bucky was sure somehow, someway, the man would find it again. But that wasn’t what he was concerned about right now. 

“Enemy coming!” he said, noticing the large shape shifting in the dark. He moved to the other edge of the trench, trying to figure out exactly where he needed to shoot. Again the enemy moved in slow precision, allowing him to pick them off like fish in a barrel. Dugan was next to him, so close that his ears were ringing from his gun shots. At least he wasn’t alone, which was a comfort in and of itself - especially when suddenly, through the site, he saw men simply disappear and leave behind nothing but a weird glowing smoke. He paused, thinking that maybe he’d gotten a head injury that he’d forgotten about, because that had to be a hallucination. But then it happened again, the blue glow fading where men once stood. 

The field quieted, the land growing still as if the battle were over. But Bucky knew better. This was the calm before the storm. He pulled himself out of the trench, Dugan and Jones following him, as they tried to figure out what the hell was going on. More blue appeared in the distance, shots firing from something unseen. And when the weapon finally came into view, Bucky wished he’d never laid eyes on it.

“That looks...new.” Dugan said. If he was trying to lighten the mood, it failed miserably. Headlights from the massive tank fanned over them, momentarily blinding him. But then they saw the massive muzzle of the gun as it turned with unreal precision - and pointed right at them.

“Duck!” he said, grabbing whatever parts of the two men he could and throwing himself back into the trench. They landed roughly on the ground, taking in a mouthful of dirt, but that was the least of their worries right now. “Run! We need to run!” They probably couldn’t outrun the tank, but they had to try. 

A good half a kilometer away, Lu was trying to tie a tourniquet tight enough so that the soldier in front of her may just lose an arm and not his life. All pretense of sterile fields and sanitation were kind of blown out the window; there was no time to change gloves between patients, or to don personal protective equipment. She just had to work quickly to save as many men as she could. Each blast that sounded threatened to lock her in her mind, to throw her back to that day at Pearl, but she forced herself to breathe and to focus. Just one more patient. One more soldier, and then she could collapse into a sobbing mess. Just one more death check, and then she could give in. 

She dragged another man back to the Jeeps, depositing him near enough that the boys could load him into the back. The truck bed was quickly filling, but the injury count was nowhere near the count of bodies splayed across the grass. She couldn’t tell which parts of the land were dark with dirt from the explosions or with blood from the injuries, but she tried to avoid them all the same. Just one more. Just one more. They were out of surgical tape, but there’d been a roll of duct tape in the truck, so she was using that to secure her dressings, most of which were just rolls of gauze packed into open wounds in the hope that they would hold until the men could be transported back. 

“Ah!” the man in front of her yelled in pain as she sank to her knees next to him, snapping her back to the present. The ground was wet; was it water, or blood? She didn’t have time to find out. She roughly pulled the man’s hands from his leg so she could assess the wound, sharply moving her head to the right so that she didn’t get sprayed in the face with arterial blood.  _ Shit _ . She slapped her hand over it, ignoring another howl of pain and the soldier’s screeching  _ whatthefuckareyoudoingtomeyoubitch _ . She grabbed his hand and, after taking a deep breath and counting to three, removed her own and placed his finger over the tear in his artery.

“Do not move your hand from here, okay?” she said in a voice that would make a commanding officer or her mother proud. When the soldier, with his wide eyes and pale face, nodded, she pulled out her duct tape and secured his hand to his leg, just to make it that much easier for him. “You move your hand, you die for sure.” 

“I may die anyways?!” he exclaimed, but Lu was no longer paying attention to him. She stood, waving her flashlight to get the attention of two of the boys. Once they saw her call, she moved on, ignoring the soldier as he now wondered aloud where she was going. She was so focused scanning the ground for fallen soldiers that she nearly ran over Angela, who was frozen on her knees next to a dead man. Even in the dark, Lu could see the bloodstains all over her uniform, and how her hands, gripping her legs, were shaking like leaves in a hurricane. She reached out to hold her hands, helping to still them.

“You’re okay, Angela.” she said, just loud enough for the other girl to hear her over the explosions. Angela took a sharp breath that sounded more like a sob.

“They just…” she left the sentence hanging, but Lu could fill it in with any number of truths. They just keep fighting. They just keep getting hurt. They just keep dying.

“You can’t save everyone.” Lu said, her knuckles white as she held onto her. It was a hard truth, one that she’d learned nearly two years prior. “But there are still plenty of people you have saved, and plenty more than you can still save. You’re doing great.” 

Angela looked at her with her big brown doe eyes, slowly nodding as the words sunk in. She opened her mouth to respond, but a resounding  _ boom _ stole both of their attention. Lu’s eyes snapped to where the sound came from, her heart dropping as she spotted the massive tank rolling up onto the battlefield. It was bigger than anything she’d ever seen, and the blue shot that came from it was definitely something different too. Her blood went cold.

“Ang, go back to the trucks.” she said quietly. She started scanning the field; where was Barnes? Was he caught in that explosion? Was he hurt? Was he dead?

“What? But that - we may need to-” she tried to form a sentence through her fear, but Lu moved and grabbed her by her arms. She knew she was holding too tight, but she had to get her point across.

“Angela, go back to the trucks, and tell them to go back to camp. And go back with them.” she said. Angela blinked a few times before shaking her head.

“What about you? Lucille I don’t want to leave you.” she said, her eyes shining with tears and reflecting the orange glow of the fire.

“I’m right behind you, okay? I just need to check something first.” she replied. They both knew it was a lie, but Angela needed to believe it. Lu shook her a little. “Go! I’ll catch up.”

Angela stood up on shaky legs, and with one last look at her friend, took off running towards the trucks. Lu watched her for a moment, then turned and started going towards the explosions. 

She dropped into every trench she found, yelling for Barnes and telling whatever men she found to go back to the trucks, to retreat. Was it her call, or her orders that they needed to follow? No. But if a bloody blonde banshee tells a man to run, he listens. There were a few smartasses of course, saying  _ I can be Barnes for you _ , but she ignored them. If they weren’t Barnes, they didn’t matter. Her panic was rising, and she found herself also glancing over the motionless bodies on the grass, scared that the next face she was going to see would be his. She spotted the next trench, this one with a soldier sporting a bowler hat, and jumped into it, narrowly missing a barrage of bullets.

“Barnes?” she called, addressing all the men in the trench. Their faces turned towards her and she quickly scanned them: bowler man with a mustache, a black man, a man with a cut across his face, and- “Barnes!” 

“Doc?!” he asked, looking like he was seeing a ghost. Or a dream. Forgetting decorum she jumped on him, holding him tightly. She could hear the other men taking jabs at them, but he was alive and he was well enough to nearly crush her to his chest to return her embrace, and that was all her mind was able to focus on at the time. He put her down, smoothing her hair away from her face and checking her body for injuries. “Jesus fucking Christ, Doc, you look a mess-”

“It’s not mine.” she said, shaking her head. “Look, we need to go, that tank-”

“That’s what we were working on, doll.” the man with the handlebar mustache said. 

“You shouldn’t have come out here, you could’ve gotten shot, or -” Barnes couldn’t finish, letting go of her and quickly turning back to the wall with his rifle at the yell of some of the men. There were even more troops coming now, fanning out to cover the whole line. Whenever Bucky shot one down, another one seamlessly took his place. It was like they were infinite.

“They’re surrounding us.” he said suddenly, putting his rifle down. He looked to the left and to the right; sure enough, black shadows moved along the edges of the field. “Doc, you gotta go-”

“Not without you-”

“That’s an order, Peters-”

“I  _ outrank _ you, Barnes-”

“Doc!” 

“No!” she said it so sharply that he dropped his eyes from the impending doom and back to her. The fire in her glare matched the one surrounding them, somehow seeming to burn with a deeper heat. 

“I think you need to listen to the lady, Bucky.” Dugan commented. Both of them ignored him.

“I came here to get you. And I’m not leaving without you.” she said, her hands flexing as if she wanted to reach for him but was holding herself back.

“These guys…” he glanced toward the front, could see the lines of allied soldiers being led away at gunpoint, their hands in the air. “They’re taking prisoners, Doc. Please.” he couldn’t think of anything else to say, any way to convince her that she needed to save herself. 

“And how are you gonna survive a concentration camp without me?” she said, fear making her voice shake. She had a choice, and she was making it.

“We got two options,” Dugan interrupted, making them both acknowledge that he was there. “Either we play dead, or we start runnin’. Pick.” 

The crunch of boots nearby warned them of the coming squadron, and without thinking or asking Bucky shoved Lu to the ground, pulling off his uniform jacket and laying it over her. “Stay down, Doc, you hear me?” he said through clenched teeth. He had a chance to take out a few more of those fuckers, but if he somehow failed…

He swung his rifle around, joining in with Dugan and Jones as they shot the advancing line. But no matter how many men he sent to hell, another one would replace him. What they  _ fuck _ were they just multiplying? Shot after shot after shot-

And then, the worst sound a sharpshooter could hear. An empty chamber. His magazine was empty, as were the bags at his belt. “I’m outta ammo!” he yelled, looking down the line for anyone who had some to spare. But next to him, Dugan also ran out of rounds, and Jones had long ago given up on his empty pistol and was trying in vain to fix the radio. They were well and truly fucked. Lu was no longer hiding but sitting with the jacket slung over her shoulder, and Bucky dropped down to put a hand on her and guide her back to the ground. “Don’t move, Doc. You stay still and you make it out of here.” he said. She lifted the sleeve up enough just so he could see her glare - and her tears. “Don’t worry about me. I’m stupid, but I’m resilient.” he said. 

“ _ Hands in the air! _ ” a man yelled in German. Bucky lifted his hands, giving Lu one last, longing glance before slowly turning to face the voice. It was just another nameless, faceless soldier in black. But this one had a machine gun trained right on his chest. He gestured at Lu’s still form. “ _ Get him up! _ ” 

“He’s dead.” Bucky replied. He could’ve spoken in German, but he wanted to hold that card under his hat until he needed it. The dumber they could appear, the more their opponent would underestimate them. More soldiers arrived, shoving them with gun muzzles and ordering them to get out of the trench and start walking. Bucky made himself keep his eyes forward, counting his steps and his breaths and doing everything he could to make sure he didn’t look back and give Lu away. But he heard the scream anyway, turning sharply to find another soldier dragging her by her hair and shoving her in the line with the rest of them. She tried to fight him until he smacked her across the face; she stumbled, but stayed upright, an angry red mark already appearing on her cheek. Bucky could’ve sworn he’d just gotten shot the way his heart was hurting. She fell in line with the rest of them, hands above her head and the most defiant look she could manage on her face, though he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she hyperventilated. A black mask appeared in front of him, poking his sternum with a rifle. He didn’t need to know German to understand the sentiment.  _ Turn around. Start walking _ . 

He didn’t want to know if she’d been found by accident or on purpose. Either way, he vowed to himself that he was going to protect her. He had a lot of strikes in his average, and she was not going to be one of them. 

  
  



	16. Name - July 24, 2014

**Chapter 16: Name**

**July 24, 2014**

It was easy to hide in London. Winter didn’t know if it was the lack of land area, the population, or simply the location, but something about it seemed to keep Hydra at bay. He didn’t understand why this was; the UK wasn’t on the black map, and London was one of the places that he and Summer had lived previously. It should have been one of the first places Hydra checked. And yet there were no signs of people trailing them, no sense of a sniper scope on their backs. There was finally a moment of peace. 

Well, as peaceful a life as two ex-super-soldiers could lead. 

Sparring with each other came as naturally as breathing. They knew each other's strengths, each other’s weaknesses. Winter could estimate how she was going to move before the thought even crossed her mind, and she could read his feints like an open book. He was bigger and stronger, but she was agile and used to going into fights where she did not have the advantage. And, more than anything, she knew how to avoid the metal arm. 

Even if it was cold outside, it was quickly becoming warm in their little flat as they attacked and dodged and parried. It was not the same kind of fighting that Winter often did when training the soldiers; that was usually brutal and forceful, using strength to overwhelm the opponent. Nor was it the kind of fighting they used for the ballerinas in the Red Room; that was efficient and practiced, each movement patterned in response to a stimulus. This was as much a fight as it was a game of chess, though with less marble pieces and more fists. 

Winter shot his hand out, aiming for Summer’s throat; she barely dodged it, turning her body just right and using his momentum to throw him to the ground. It was easy to continue the motion, rolling so that he was back on his feet, crouched low in anticipation of her attack. She moved like she was going to knee him in the face, and he put his metal arm up to block the blow. But the hit never came. Instead, Summer leapt into the air, executing barely half a turn above him. His eyes followed her and he stood quickly, realizing too late that he was playing into her strategy. She landed on his back, the weight of her making him shift his stance to stay upright. Her legs were around him, locking down the metal arm that provided him with such an advantage. She had both arms wrapped around his neck, pressing her chest to his back so he could feel every inch of her body against him. Normally, he would simply slam them into a wall, pushing the breath from her lungs and shocking her nervous system. But since they were renting a flat and not in a concrete bunker, he did not have that option. Instead he dropped to the floor, hoping that his weight would be enough to get her to let go without breaking most of her ribs. But Summer was expecting this, moving out of the way just in time so that his back met the wood floor with an echoing  _ thump _ . She quickly crawled over him, securing his arms under her knees and putting her hand at his throat, holding just tight enough to show that, another day, she could kill him. His chest heaved underneath her, and he could feel the heat from the exercise radiating from her. Their eyes met, and for a second, the world stopped.

They’d fought each other a thousand times, but something about today was different. He slowly pulled his arms, and she allowed them to slip from their prison under her knees. Her hand stayed at his neck, but her grip was soft, her fingers flexing ever so slightly as he sat up and brought their faces close. She didn’t move, but her eyes widened and tracked his every minuscule motion.

“What are you doing?” she asked quietly, not moving her hand from his throat. He was suddenly very aware of their closeness, memories of the other day mixing with those of another life. 

“I don’t know.” he replied honestly. He couldn’t quite identify what he was feeling in his stomach, but he knew that he’d felt it before, and that it was coming back stronger than it had since before they walked away. The best he could tell, he just wanted to be close to her. Other people made him nervous, but Summer he could trust. She let go of his throat, her hand coming to rest on his chest. He could feel his heart beating against her palm, as if it were trying to tell her something in Morse code. She swallowed as if her mouth had gone dry, her breath short and mingling with his. He hesitantly rested his hand on her leg, feeling how the muscle tensed ever so slightly as he slid it up to her waist, and then to her back. He could easily pull her closer, press her chest flush against his, feel her heart beat against his own. Her fingers curled slightly, grasping his shirt, and he didn’t know if she was nervous or thinking about tugging him closer as well. 

“I don’t know either.” she said. She didn’t know what he was doing, or what she was doing, or what was happening between them. They’d always been close, fitting together like gears in a well oiled machine, but now their wheels were spinning with all the emotions their bodies were remembering. Someone else had always told them any information they needed to know, and while they were able to improvise and adapt to a situation, it had been too long since they’d been on their own. They were now in uncharted waters.

He leaned forward slightly, unsure if his goal was to rest his forehead against hers or press his lips to hers. Her breath caught, and the moment before he was going to have to commit to a decision she moved, getting off him in a flash and walking towards the door. 

“Summer-” he didn’t know what he was going to say, he just knew he didn’t want her to go. There was a sting so sharp behind his sternum he actually checked to make sure he hadn’t been shot. 

“It’s time for breakfast.” she said, pulling a jacket on over her t-shirt and twisting her back-to-blonde hair up so she could tuck it into a baseball cap. In the span of a breath she was out the door, leaving Winter sitting alone on the floor wondering where they would go from here. The commanding officers always put him in charge. Summer had her say, of course, but his decisions were the final ones. It wouldn’t be that way with this. 

He knew the tortures he’d endured. Those came to him every day and night, whether he wanted them to or not. And he knew some of what they’d done to Summer. But it occurred to him at that moment that he did not know every detail of her captivity. In fact, there was no way to quantify how much information he was missing. Some days it seemed like her memories were coming back faster, and other days it seemed like his were. Either way, the power dynamic needed to shift between them if they were going to survive; they had to fill in the blanks for each other. They could no longer be primary and secondary - they had to be equals, share in the decisions. He was used to being in charge, and she was used to being forced into submission. She clearly did not want that anymore. 

His emotions made him want to act physically. But he would have to let her take the lead there. He let out an annoyed breath through his nose; it would be tough, to relinquish control. But he could do it, for her. He’d done much worse and much better things for her. With that thought, he got up and started making coffee, knowing that soon Summer would be back with breakfast. 

Summer didn’t know why she’d chosen flight over fight, but she did know that it felt easier to breathe out in the open air. She hadn’t felt threatened by Winter - quite the opposite, in fact - but she had felt smothered by whatever was building in her torso. A nice walk and a good breakfast would help her muddled mind sort itself out. She meant to go somewhere she hadn’t gone before to keep anyone from recognizing her, but she ended up at the same bread shop she’d found a few days prior. She paused at the door, wondering if she should risk it or just turn around and leave. Then, she realized she’d been standing at the door longer than social mores would allow, so she made the decision to just go in.

Turns out, it didn’t matter how long she stood at the door, because the girl who manned the counter the last time wasn’t there. In fact, it seemed like the bakery was empty. Summer’s blood went cold, her senses heightening as she pulled a knife from the holster at her belt. She moved carefully down to the end of the counter, leaning against the wall and glancing past the door frame into the kitchen in the back. There was no movement, but there was a trail of blood leading behind some shelves. For a brief moment, she wondered if this was her fault; was the girl who worked here hurt or killed because Hydra knew she came here? Were the operatives still there? She knew she should abort the mission, or at least call on Winter for back up. But the girl may not have time for that. With a flip of her knife, she moved into the kitchen. 

Upon closer inspection, the blood trail was not completely blood. And it didn’t lead to a woman with a stab or gunshot wound. It led to a woman in labor.

“Oh my God.” the woman said from where she was on the floor, leaning against the big industrial dishwasher. “I’m so - I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t-”

“Don’t apologize. Are you okay?” Summer asked, putting her knife away and kneeling down next to the woman. She reached for Summer’s hand, squeezing tightly as a contraction went through her. The woman had a surprisingly strong grip, probably due to baking bread every day. The blue fabric of her dress was already stained dark from her water breaking, and she squeezed her legs together as if she were physically trying to hold the baby in. 

“I’ve been better.” she said with a gasp once the contraction let go. The small hairs around her face were sticking to her skin; thanks to the ovens and the labor, she was already starting to sweat. “You’re a nurse, right? That’s what you told me the other day?”

“Yes.” Summer answered, figuring that was an easier response than the truth, and better than reminding her that she said she  _ used _ to be a nurse.

“Can you just...I mean, can you tell me if I’m okay? I haven’t - I tried to call an ambulance, but every time I try to move-” she reached towards a corded phone on the wall, but when her weight shifted she cried out in pain, another contraction grabbing her and making her squeeze Summer’s hand with the same ferocity as before. 

“You’ll want to be in a good position. This is going to feel uncomfortable.” Summer told her, getting up and going to wash her hands at the big sink full of dirty mixing bowls, leaving the tap on to get the water as hot as it could go. The woman groaned, shifting in an attempt to get herself more comfortable. Summer used the back of her hands to lift her skirt, and her pinkie fingers to remove the woman’s underwear. “I’m going to check your cervix.”

“You should buy a girl dinner first.” she joked, making Summer tilt her head to the side in confusion. It was early in the morning, and eating was inadvisable at the current moment. At her expression, the girl sighed. “Sorry, nevermind. What’s your name?”

_ Lucille. My name is Lucille. Lu. Doc.  _ “Summer.” she said, not knowing what else to say. 

“Summer? Ah-” she flinched as Summer gently used her fingers to check her, relaxing a moment later once she realized what was happening. “I’m Miranda. Nice to meet you.” 

“Likewise.” Summer said, removing her hand. “Miranda, do you have a bunch of clean towels somewhere?” 

“Um, back - back over on that cart. They’re supposed to be for the bread - why do we need towels?” she asked, suddenly looking very scared. Summer didn’t know what to say to comfort her, so she went to what she did know - how to prepare for a live birth.

“Your contractions are very close together. Your baby is coming very quickly.” she said, going to grab the towels. She stopped at the stove, turning the burner on high and pulling her knife from its home again, running the blade through the flames to sterilize it. The faucet was now spitting out steaming water, and she found two big, clean bowls to fill. 

“No, no this baby can’t come here, it’s - there’s flour everywhere, and germs-” Miranda was beginning to panic. Now Summer had to address her fears.

“Her immune system will be very strong thanks to her connection to you via the umbilical cord. We will deliver her safely, then we will call for an ambulance to take you to the hospital.” Summer explained. That was reassuring, right?

“My wife, she wanted to be here, I have to call her-” once again Miranda was interrupted by a contraction, crying out in pain. Her whole body was shaking. “We had a whole plan, it was going to be a home birth before we went to the hospital-”

“Well now it’s going to be here.” Summer said, bringing the bowls to the floor and starting to lay out the towels. This baby was coming much faster than her mother realized. “Can you call her?”

“My phone-” she gestured towards the counter. Summer nodded, using her elbows to slide it off the counter and hand it to the woman. 

“Make the conversation quick.” she said. Miranda nodded, holding her stomach with one hand and dialing with the other. She let Summer position her legs and put towels all around her, a look of relief coming over her face when a woman on the other side picked up the call. “Baby, it’s me, I need you to come to the bakery.” Summer could hear as the other person asked if Miranda was okay, if there was something wrong with the baby, but Miranda quickly interrupted. “I’m okay, everything’s okay, but I need you to come to the bakery. Right now. Also, call an ambulance for me.” 

“Very efficient.” Summer said as she hung up. What Miranda didn’t know was that unless the wife could get here in the next ten minutes, she was likely going to miss the birth of the child.

“Thank you.” Miranda gasped. Her expression said that she knew things were progressing quickly. “You...you’ve done this before, yea?”

“Yes.” Summer said. She left out the fact that the last time was in 1941. The motions were coming back to her easily anyway, she wasn’t worried about doing something dangerous. 

“And you, do you...I mean, have you  _ done _ this before?” she asked, gesturing to her abdomen. Summer paused for a second, remembering flashes of knives and pain.

“No. I can’t.” she admitted. There was an empty ache low in her belly that she ignored, focusing only on the woman in front of her. Miranda was able to briefly break through her pain to give her a pitying look that Summer didn’t appreciate.

“I’m sorry.” she said through her labored breathing. Summer shrugged, taking her hips and sitting her just right.

“Probably for the best.” she replied, giving the towels one last adjustment. “Are you ready?” 

Miranda pressed her knees together. “No, I can’t - Claire isn’t - I’m not ready -” panic was rising again. She needed to control her blood pressure. Summer hesitated for a second before putting her hand on the other woman’s, holding back a flinch when she grabbed it tightly.

“You are ready. And so is this baby.” she said. Her voice was gentle and matter-of-fact, giving Miranda no room for argument. Prolonging the labor would only lead to complications. “The next time a contraction comes, you need to push.”

“What, like -  _ push _ push?” she asked, alarmed. Summer nodded, using just a touch of super strength to pry the woman’s knees apart. “I - okay. Okay. Yea.”

“You can do this.” she said. Miranda took a deep breath, then another. Summer could tell when the contraction came, could see the brief hesitation on her face before she gave in to her biological urges. Her face scrunched up and she cried out in pain, gripping her skirt so tight her knuckles were white. “Breathe, Miranda.” she reminded her. The baby’s head appeared, crowning her way into the world. Summer encouraged her further, for just a little more. Then, the baby’s head was out. Miranda took a few gasps of air, already exhausted by what was happening. 

“That...was terrible.” she said with a whine. One corner of Summer’s mouth lifted in a smile as she cradled the baby’s head in her hands. 

“You’re doing great.” she said, gently wiping away all the amniotic fluid still clinging to the baby’s face. “Next one comes, and you’ll be done.”

“Really? That quick?” she asked, disbelieving. 

“That quick.” she replied. Miranda nodded, steeling herself for the next contraction. When it hit, she resumed her pushing, and Summer gently guided the baby as she made her way into the world. When the cold air hit her she started moving, pulling her limbs close into herself and grimacing uncomfortably. 

“Why isn’t she crying? Isn’t she supposed to be crying?” Miranda asked. Summer didn’t answer, instead focusing on cutting the umbilical cord and using the towels wetted with warm water to clean her. “Summer?”

“She’s fine.” she said. “I’m going to clean her and wrap her. You need to prepare for the afterbirth.”

“The...the what?” Miranda asked, and Summer sighed. She thought, seventy years later, that education would have prepared women more for this moment.

“You have to deliver the placenta as well.” she replied. The baby started cooing, flexing her fingers and moving her lips in search of food. 

“Oh, cool. Cool cool cool.” she said, clearly not  _ cool _ with the situation. 

“It won’t be as bad as before.” Summer explained. Miranda nodded, taking a few deep breaths and waiting for the contractions to resume. When they did, she easily pushed the placenta out, and thankfully it was all in one piece. When that was finished, Summer put the swaddled baby in her arms, and artfully removed the soiled towels. She didn’t even have to think about it; it’s like her hands remembered what her mind could not. Someone slammed through the front door, the sound of heels loudly clacking on the concrete as someone ran towards them. Summer moved away with the linens, going to rinse what she could and give the women their moment.

“Miri? Oh my God, what - who - is that…?” a woman with beautifully dark skin sank to her knees next to Miranda, reverently touching the towel. Miranda smiled, adjusting the baby so that her wife could see her clearer.

“Little Sophie is here, thanks to Summer.” she said. Summer’s hand’s slowed, but she didn’t look over her shoulder. A lot was going on in her mind, and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take. 

“Thank you. For being there for her.” Claire said to her. Summer garnered herself and turned, giving what she hoped was a pleasant smile. 

“Just the right place at the right time.” she said. It had happened to her a thousand times before, on missions; the whole art of being an assassin was making sure she was at the right place at the right time. But this time, she didn’t kill anyone. 

“Sophie Summer...it has a nice ring to it.” Miranda said. Summer could tell that she wasn’t completely convinced of it, but was too deep in her gratitude to think clearly. She stiffened at the idea.

“No. Don’t name her Summer. It’s not a good name.” she said, shaking her head. That’s what the scientists had named her. And even then, it wasn’t for anything she did - they’d just named Winter first, and were too lazy to come up with something else for her. Summer was a killer. This baby was not.

“Well, what do you suggest, then?” Miranda asked. Claire started to say something, but a look from her wife silenced her. Summer felt overwhelmed by this gratitude, and swallowed thickly as her mind whirred. 

“I’m sure you two already have a name picked out.” she said, giving her knife one last rinse before holstering it again. The sounds of ambulance sirens reached her ears, and she immediately felt the sniper sight between her shoulder blades again. She needed to go. “The paramedics will be here soon. You’ll be safe in their care.”

“No, wait, Summer-” Miranda called after her as she walked away. Against her better judgement, she stopped. “If you had a baby girl, what would you name her?”

“I can’t have children.” she reminded her, the response easier than the fact that a name did come to her mind instantaneously, as if she’d never forgotten it. Again, the dull, deep ache. 

“And that stopped you from thinking about it?” she asked. The sirens were a couple blocks away; Summer had to leave now if she was going to maintain her cover. 

“Grace. I would have named her Grace.” she said softly. With that, she left, crossing the street just as the ambulance turned onto it. The clouds present that morning had burned off, leaving a cool, bright morning. The world smelled a little nicer, a little newer. 

Winter was up and pacing whenever she returned, his eyes sharpening as she came through the door. “You were gone a long time.” he said, something akin to concern in his tone. He spotted the stains on the knees of her jeans and all over her t-shirt, and moved to put his hands on her shoulders so he could check for other injuries. “What happened?” meaning, of course,  _ did you kill someone? Or did someone try to kill you? _

“I delivered a baby.” she said, not minding now that he was close to her. She felt like a piece of concrete around her heart had broken off, making it easier to breathe and to think. “I saved a life today. Instead of taking one.” 

He took in a sharp breath. When was the last time either one of them could say that? “How does it feel?” he asked lowly, desperate to be a part of this epiphany even though there was no way for him to be. What was it like, to help instead of hurt?

“Liberating.” she said truthfully. She could still feel the weight of the baby in her hands, see the looks of thankfulness on Miranda and Claire’s faces. He gripped her shoulders, looking into her eyes, trying to see what she saw and feel what she felt. 

“I want that.” he whispered. He could tell that this had changed her, even if it was in the slightest of ways. They were free physically, but the emotional stronghold from Hydra still had its claws deep in their heads. She was one step closer to being free from their pasts, one step further along than him. 

“Then maybe that’s what we do.” she said, referring to their overall mission. It wouldn’t just be about survival anymore. Maybe, after all the bad they did, they could do something good. Just like…

"Just like we used to." he replied. Back before the train. Back when they were with Captain America. Back, during the first time they'd been in London.

She nodded, her hands going to his waist. They stayed there for a breath, then she slid them around to his back, pulling herself close to him and burying her head in his chest. He didn't know what to do with his arms for a second, but the response came easily. He wrapped his arms around her and, minding the strength of the metal one, embraced her back.

They'd always been close, interlocking gears that were just part of the big machine. But now it was just them, and it turned out the machine still worked just fine.


	17. Cages - October 4, 1943

**Chapter 17: Cages**

**October 4, 1943**

The fucking Nazis put honest-to-God shackles on them, giving the illusion that they were all now slaves. There were no trains waiting to take them to a concentration camp, nor prisoners’ barracks on a military base. Instead they simply marched them, day and night, with just enough breaks to keep most of them alive. Those who were lucky enough to pass on during the trek had to be dragged along by their brothers until the slowness became noticeable and some fucker stopped them and set the man free. On the second morning a body appeared in the distance, and Bucky had to hold his breath until he could see who it was. He recognized it further away than he thought he would, and by the time he was standing next to Howard he couldn’t stop himself from pausing. Another strike. He looked even younger in death, and Bucky was just about to call out to him (just to make sure he wasn’t just asleep) when the guard spotted him and shoved him, pushing him along with the rest of the chain. He had to leave Howard behind with no rites, no burial, and no goodbye. There was no way to tell how many people were in that line, and the only instructions they got were to keep walking - barked at them in harsh German, with gun muzzles shoved into their backs. 

He periodically looked back, trusting the boys in front of him to keep him on track. There were seventeen people between him and Lu; he knew this because every day he counted them. The defiant look that she’d had when the soldier pulled her from the trench was gone, and now even though she was still trying to be brave, he could see how afraid she was. His mind spun with plans, of ways that he could escape the shackles and break her out too. All he had to do was take out the nearest guard and confiscate his gun, then he could shoot their way out...and then what? Leave all the other men to march to their doom? No. He may not have been a squad leader to everyone in that group, but he still owed it to them to take care of them. They’d live together or die together. But he would not abandon them.

They were eventually led to a bunker, a thick concrete structure that sat in the middle of the forest. They went through the hangar doors, past the weird looking vehicles that were so unlike the others they’d seen, and past a plane that looked like something Howard Stark might have invented. Past the other soldiers in the same black uniforms, training and eating and watching the rough, dirty allies as they were paraded by. They packed them into an elevator like sheep, the stench of so many sweaty, unwashed bodies nearly overpowering. Bucky could hear people coughing, trying not to be sick as the elevator moved down, down, down underground. He scanned the faces fervently, trying to spot a blonde head or green eyes staring back at him. He finally spotted Lu again as the elevator screeched to a halt, jolting the lot of them. Any courage was gone from her now, her lips parted as she tried to catch her breath and panic alight in her eyes. He could see her trying to push her way out, trying to create space, but there was none to spare. He tried to call out to her, tried to tell her that it was alright, but his words were lost in the cacophony of hundreds of terrified soldiers. It was just as well; the look on her face, he wasn’t sure she was seeing him anyways. 

Gas started leaking into the elevator, leading to more panic and more shoving as people tried to find an exit that didn’t exist. Bucky did his best to stay upright while the current pulled at him, and tried to keep his eyes on Lu. He yelled at the people around her to watch out for her, not to shove her or push her or hurt her. She was tough, yes, and strong, but there was nothing she could do about her size compared to the full grown men around her. But they didn’t care. They were all too scared, thinking that the gas was going to kill them. Most didn’t realize what Bucky already knew: they weren’t going to march them all the way here just to kill them in an elevator. One by one the soldiers succumbed to the gas, their breathing deep and slow as their exhausted bodies gave in to the cocktail. After days of marching, the Nazis were finally giving them sleep. 

Bucky awoke again to screaming. Sure, there was an undercurrent of moans and shouts, but one particularly high shriek called to him more than the others. It was close, closer than the other cries for help, and something about it pulled him from his unconsciousness. He didn’t have time to take note of who was in the prison with him - though he did see Dugan’s goddamn bowler hat - he was just trying to find the source of the screams. He realized he wasn’t in a jail cell, but in fact a cage, and in the cage next to him there was quite the commotion as a familiar blonde shoved away the men in the cage with her. He immediately saw red, crawling to his feet as fast as he could. His vision blurred as his blood pressure dropped with the position change, which didn’t help the situation.

“What the fuck are you doing? Let go of her!” he yelled, trying to make sense of what was going on. Not only did he have to worry about Lu, he had to figure out where they were, and how they were going to get out. Lu heard his voice and latched onto it, her green eyes wild as she tried to find him. “Back the fuck up!” he yelled again, this time towards the men that were trying to contain her.

“Barnes! Barnes thank God!” she said, finally spotting him. She looked panicked and terrified in a way he never thought he would see, holding onto the bars so tight that her fingers were white. He’d seen that look before, in men that had shell-shock. They woke up in the barracks yelling orders, a wild look in their eyes as they searched for enemies that weren’t there. “Barnes, we’re stuck, we’re gonna drown-”

“Lady, calm down!” one of the soldiers said, putting his hands on her shoulders. She screeched again, turning and forcing his hands away. Her head made a dull  _ thunk _ on the bars as she ended up pushing her back against them.

“Don’t touch her! Give her some goddamn room!” Bucky yelled. Half of the men heard him and moved away, giving Lu her space. But the other half kept reaching for her, probably making her feel even more trapped. “Hey! Make space! Make fucking space!” That finally got their attention, and with the help of the soldiers who got it, she finally got room to breathe. “Doc. Doc!”

“Barnes?” she seemed to already have forgotten that he was there. She turned quickly, nearly smacking her face on the iron bars, but the look of relief on her face was worth it. “Barnes, we’re stuck! We can’t - what are we gonna do?”

“Hey, hey just keep looking at me.” he said, trying to prevent her eyes from wandering and seeing the rows of cages around them. He reached his hand out to her and she did the same, trying to wedge herself between the bars to reach further. But no matter how they shifted, there was just enough room between the cages so that they couldn’t touch. “You’re okay. We’re not in a ship. We’re gonna get out of here.”

“But we can’t - we can’t-” she was starting to hyperventilate. He wasn’t used to her being the unhinged one between them, but if he needed to step up for her, then he would.

“Don’t think about that, okay? You’re not in a ship. You’re here with me, okay? /there’s plenty of air. Look at me.” he said. She kept breathing too fast but at least her eyes were locked on his, and he was able to mime taking slower breaths, in and out, until she finally started to calm down. Every time her eyes flicked to their surroundings he reminded her to look in his direction, making her slow her breathing and bring down her panic. “We may be stuck, but we’re not dead, okay? We’re not dead.”

“We’re not dead.” she repeated, sounding more like herself. “Right, we’re not dead.”

“I’m gonna get us out of here, okay? Don’t worry.” he said. Logically he knew that he shouldn’t promise that, that he  _ couldn’t _ promise that, but he did anyway. He was much too stubborn and cared way too much about the woman in front of him to even entertain the thought that this was their end. They were  _ not _ going to meet their demise in some stupid underground bunker at the hands of some stupid Nazis. 

“You okay now, baby?” one of the soldiers in her cage stepped forward again, putting a hand on her low back. She instantly startled, shifting away from him and banging into the bars of the cage. Bucky didn’t consider himself a jealous man, but the soldier made such a burning anger rise in him that he thought he was going to pry open the bars with his bare hands.

“Mullens I swear to God you touch her one more fucking time, and you won’t have to worry about the fucking Nazis cause I’m gonna fucking kill you myself!” he said, shaking the cage walls. Mullens held his hands up and stepped back, but there was something in his eyes that Bucky didn’t like. He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, pulling him back from the bars. He fought against the hand, trying to keep his eyes on Mullens and Lu. The other soldiers in her cage took the hint, forcefully moving the guy into the opposite corner. 

Dugan finally turned him around, immediately putting up a hand between his face and the raised, clenched fist that Bucky didn’t realize he made. He paused before releasing his hand, shaking out his fingers. “Sorry.” he croaked out, his throat tight and his body starting to shake as his adrenaline started to fade. Dugan nodded, patting his shoulders a couple times.

“You’re good, I get it.” he said. There was something discoloring a part of his mustache, but even at this close of a distance Bucky couldn’t tell if it was blood or mud. “But now is not the time to be snapping at each other.”

“No offense, Dugan, but this seems like the perfect time to be snapping at each other.” another soldier - Morita, his nametag said - interjected, something in his voice alluding to a history between him and Dugan. Dugan shot a glare his way, leaving Bucky to round on the other man.

“Snapping isn’t what’s gonna get us outta here, unless the stick up your ass is actually wire cutters to take care of these bars.” he said sharply, legitimately puffing his chest like some bird in the wild. Morita tried to raise himself up too, but unfortunately for him Dugan was a solid head taller than him. 

“If you ask me,” Falsworth cut in from where he was sitting in the corner, his back against the bars. Bucky let out a breath, glad he at least had the level-headed Brit here with him. “this is exactly what the Nazis want. Disorder. Discord.”

“Yea no shit, Falsworth, that’s the whole point of this goddamn war.” Morita said. Bucky knew he didn’t mean to sound so petulant, and any other day he’d be a little more understanding, but this was a high stress situation and the last thing he needed was grown men arguing like children. He met Falsworth’s eyes and the other man shrugged; whatever was going on between Dugan and Morita, they didn’t want to get into the middle of it. 

He moved to the corner of the cage closest to Lu’s, turning his attention back to her. She was down on the floor, her knees pulled up and her arms around her legs; she was no longer panicking, but she was definitely still on alert. Her green eyes pierced into him, holding onto him as he matched her pose. 

“You okay, Doc?” he asked, just loud enough for her to hear him over the commotion around them. She was definitely back to herself now, giving him a completely unamused look.

“Dandy.” she said sarcastically, her voice still shaking slightly. He wanted to freak out too, but with everything else going on around them, he had to keep it together. Once they were all asleep, then he could have his moment. 

“Let me rephrase that, then.” he said, his mind whirring for something, anything, to bring some positivity to this situation. “You alive?”

“Yea, Barnes.” she said, actually managing half a smile. “I’m alive. You?”

“Yep, still alive.” he said, finally taking a moment to look around them. It was impossible to tell how many cages were in the room, and there didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason for which or how many soldiers were in them. They could hear arguments breaking out now, drowning the sounds of pain and confusion. Bucky knew he should get up and do something about it, but the idea of trying to create some sort of order in this infinite amount of chaos exhausted him more than the after effects of whatever they’d been gassed with in the elevator. 

A heavy door across the way opened, and for a moment the whole room fell silent. Two people in black hazmat suits came, toting a massive cart that required both of them to move. The doors shut, but a moment later opened again to reveal another team with a cart. In total, four teams started moving between the cages, the soldiers holding their breath and waiting to see what was in store for them. The first man in a suit pulled out a big, black plastic bag, tossing it up onto the top of the nearest cage. The men scattered to the edges, and when a piece of metal on the roof slid back and let the bag drop into the cage before closing again, they all turned away and covered their heads, as if that would save them if something was going to blow. No one moved, just watching as bag after bag was thrown into the different cages. Some of the bolder men yelled at the hazmat suits, asking questions in English and broken German and receiving no answers. They delivered their goods and exited the way they came - eerily quiet and without any regard for the hundreds (thousands?) of men in the cages. 

There was a low murmur as everyone figured out what to do with the bag in their cage. Was it an animal, there to eat them? Was it poison, meant to kill them? The murmur grew to a dull roar, and soon the message was relayed down the rows of cages - it was food. The men in his cage eyed the bag warily before Dugan finally decided to be the brave one and tear the bag open. Stale bread and some sort of dried fish tumbled onto the metal floor, easily the most unappetizing thing they’d ever seen - and they all jumped on it immediately. Bucky got his portion and sat back against his corner, still as close to Lu as he could get. She was eyeing her bread and fish with vague disgust, as if she was wondering if it was worth it to eat it.

“Just like bagels and lax, Doc.” he said, taking a bite of the dry, chewy mess that was definitely not near as good as the Jewish deli two blocks from his apartment back in Brooklyn. Lu gave him an unamused look, but took a tentative bite anyways. Now she definitely looked disgusted, but chewed and swallowed anyway.

“Why do you keep insisting I’m from New York?” she said. She’d never, in fact, had bagels and lax before, and figured that it was something that was more routine in his place of origin. 

“Because you won’t tell me where you’re actually from.” he said simply. It was a stupid conversation to be having, especially given their circumstances. But it was something to focus on besides the terrible food and their impending doom. 

“I guarantee you’ve never heard of it.” she said, taking another tiny bite. This one seemed to go down a little easier. She looked back towards the door. “What do you think they’re gonna do to us?”

“Uh uh,” he said, taking a huge chunk of bread that required way more chewing than he originally anticipated. She watched with a perked eyebrow, waiting for him to swallow. “You’ve got nowhere to hide. You gotta tell me now.”

“And you’re not at all worried about the crazy people behind the door?” she said, still barely picking at her food. He wanted to tell her to eat, that she was going to need to keep her strength up. But he didn’t want to draw attention to it.

“Of course I am. But they’re back there, and we’re in here, and you can’t pretend that you have to go see a patient when I ask you a personal question.” he said with a smile. 

“Hey, I’ve answered plenty of your  _ personal questions _ .” she said, gesturing at him with her dried fish as if she could hurt him with it. To be fair, if she was motivated enough, she probably could. 

“Come on, Doc. We may die tomorrow, let me die knowing.” he said. He meant it in jest, but could tell immediately that it was the wrong thing to say. Lu shifted quickly so that she was looking right at him, practically glowing with anger.

“Don’t say that.” she said. He wanted to feel bad, but he was honestly kind of happy to see that fire back in her. That was the woman he knew, and the one that he...cared about. Deeply. “Don’t you dare say that, Barnes.”

“Atta girl.” he said, lifting one corner of his mouth in a smirk. “That was a test and you passed.”

“No, you’re an asshole with a quick wit.” she said, sitting back and crossing her arms over her chest. “You told me we’re getting out of here. Don’t change your story just when I was beginning to believe you.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” he said, realizing very quickly that humor was not going to help this right now. Maybe once they were settled, once they started getting some answers, he could disguise his pain with humor like he always did. But for right now, he needed to be sincere. “We  _ are _ getting out of here. But I have the feeling we’re gonna have to be really tough. You up for it?” 

For a brief moment, Lu looked like she wanted to say no. But she took a breath and nodded before taking a huge bite out of the fish. “Fuck these Nazis.” she said, getting a hoot and holler from the men nearby that could hear her. 

“And fuck Hitler!” Dugan said, raising his bread in cheers. His sentiment was relayed through the whole room, each of the soldiers catching on and passing it down like the wave at a Brooklyn Dodger’s game. A moment of solidarity among the thousands of voices there. 

No more men in hazmat suits came after their meager dinner, leaving them thirsty and irate. And then, just when the irritability reached its peak, they cut the lights off. Bucky didn’t know if they were trying to simulate night or just throw off their Circadian rhythms, but either way it was working. There was kicking of bars and snide remarks. From across the massive basement they could hear sounds of people crying, or getting sick, or arguing with their cage mates. They did have to line up like sardines in a tin in order to all lay down, the exhaustion from the day (night?) catching up to them. A couple guys wanted to fight Bucky for the edge, but he refused to move from his spot. Instead, he laid with his arm through the bars, stretched towards Lu, and even if they couldn’t actually reach each other she had her hand reaching for him too. 

They thought that would be it for the first night. But they were wrong. 

Just as they got as comfortable as they were going to get, the elevator nearest to them clanged, telling of the arriving car. It landed with an ominous  _ boom _ , the doors squeaking open to reveal four men in hazmat suits. This time, the cart they had was empty, and instead of bags they had some sort of canister that looked like a bee smoker. Bucky pushed himself to his feet, hating the limited visibility they had; all the light they had came from the open elevator doors. He put himself at the front of his cage, wanting to be the first one to try and take them down. But they didn’t come towards him. Instead he was forced to watch in horror as he moved towards Lu’s.

“No.” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper from a dry throat. The men in her cage shoved her towards the back, but that didn’t matter. They gassed them with the smoke canister, each of them dropping one by one as it hit them. “No no no!” 

“Barnes-” Falsworth tried to pull him back, but he didn’t let himself be led this time. The men opened the cage, picking through and deciding which men to load onto the cart.

“No, stop!” he said as they stood too long over Lu’s unconscious body. “Leave her alone! Leave her!”

“Barnes!” Falsworth tugged him again, and Bucky just shoved him back. His heart was in his throat as two of the men picked her up, stepping over the other bodies to load her onto the cart.

“Leave her!” he said. They glanced his way, just barely. A chance. He switched to German. “ _ Leave her! Take me instead! _ ”

The men in his cage definitely understood, as did the men in the suits. His brothers stepped back, putting space between them and Bucky. The men in the suits looked at each other and shrugged, unceremoniously tossing Lu back into the cage with the other bodies that didn’t fit onto the cart. He tried to stand up straight and look into their masks as they moved toward him, pretending to be brave as they put the gasser in his face and pressed the trigger.

The last thought he had was  _ at least they didn’t take her. _


	18. Instinct - August 1, 2014

**Chapter 18: Instinct**

**August 1, 2014**

Winter remembered there being a lot more crime the last time they were in London.

Of course, it took him a while to realize that perhaps he thought there used to be more crime because that was all he could remember from that time. So much had changed over the past few decades that trying to recall memories left him with nothing more than a headache and deep, internal frustration. Something had changed in Summer ever since the day at the bakery. It wasn’t something obvious; her face was the same, and her voice was the same. But there was something different about the way she moved, and the way she looked at him. When she slept at night she still had nightmares, but she didn’t lay rigid on her back. Instead, she curled up on her side, somehow knowing which side to lay on so that she was always facing where he was in the flat. Some emotion burned in him whenever he noticed these things, and as he walked the perimeter one warm afternoon he finally recognized it - envy. They’d decided to make a difference, in themselves and this world, but she was a step or two ahead of him. And some deeply buried competitive nature didn’t like being behind.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, effectively hiding the glove needed to cover his metal hand. The sidewalk was busy at this time, packed with second shift workers making their way out and kids of all ages making their way home after school. He hated coming out at this time but made himself do it, both to check for any impending threats and to desensitize himself to the stimulus. His instinct was to hide away, to protect himself from the sensory overload, but for once he needed to not listen to his gut. 

A certain shopfront seemed to call to him, and his feet slowed without him telling them to. Now it was a coffeeshop, the small area bustling with kids yelling over each other and consuming unnecessary caffeine and sugar. But he knew it hadn’t been a coffeeshop the first time he’d been here. He stared at it for a long time, trying to see the signs of previous owners etched into the big glass window at the front. What had it been, before?

_ You know you can come inside and look, if you like _ .

The voice, an inkling of a memory that hadn’t fully materialized, was of an older gentleman. Winter remembered a warm smile, and a feeling of...shame? Disappointment? He couldn’t quite decipher it. 

_ I don’t have enough money to go inside quite yet _ . That had been his response, he was sure of it. But what had the old man been selling? What was in the store that Winter found himself stopping multiple times to look in the window? He stared at the glass now, not thinking about the people inside that might think he was looking at them. He was so close to a memory that he could taste it, and after a few days of fruitless searching in the recesses of his mind, he wanted nothing more than to finally grasp it.

_ Do you have the girl? _

The words themselves could mean anything - a target, a kidnapping, a ransom. That’s what they would have meant to Winter. But what had they meant to James Buchanan Barnes? 

A teenage girl walked by, the sequins of her top glittering in the sunlight. The sparkles reflected in the window, and though she didn’t notice him as she walked by, he definitely noticed her. Finally he was able to remember the golden paint on the glass,  _ Hoffman’s Fine Jewelry _ . Beneath it, rows of blue velvet boxes with all sorts of treasures glittering from their depths. The pieces changed every few days as certain ones were purchased or retired, and he always stopped to check them. He thought of Summer, but not as Summer - he saw her smiling, teasing him about something, giving him a look that made him feel like he couldn’t breathe.

_ If you have the girl, you’ll find the money. _

The old man had been so certain, and in the memory Winter was too. He had a goal in mind, and he never gave up on any of his goals. He knew what James Buchanan Barnes had been after in that jewelry shop, but he refused to acknowledge it. Those thoughts were too foreign and too personal, and made him feel exposed in a way that sent a stream of panic through his veins. He ducked his head and turned away from the window, continuing along his practiced route. He had some time to make up; if he didn’t return at the normal hour, then Summer would get concerned. 

The sidewalk cleared as he veered off into a neighborhood, the small houses all lined up to create a perfect hiding place for a long term Hydra operative. But there were no  _ For Sale _ signs in the yard, nor any signs of moving trucks. If they’d moved in, it had been sometime between the routes he and Summer shared. Most of the sidewalk patrons were kids of varying ages, the older ones looking out for the younger ones as they made their daily trek. They ran up drives to the brightly colored fronts, calling out to parents and siblings and pets until their voices were muffled behind the closed doors. None of them took a second glance at him; none of them knew that an assassin walked in their midst. 

But he wasn’t an assassin, not anymore. At least, that’s what he and Summer told themselves every time before they went to sleep, and the moment they woke up. Their lives were their own now. They didn’t belong to Hydra anymore, they only belonged to themselves. And each other. That pull between them, deep and quiet and constant, tugged a little stronger at him every day. He did not vocalize it, but he found himself almost hoping that Summer was experiencing it as well. He had not hoped for anything in a very long time.

He finished his walk of the neighborhood, turning to the back streets to pass by the nearly empty park. It wasn’t a particularly popular place - three of the four swings were broken, most of the ground was bare and brown, and the playground equipment looked like it might have been erected even before he came to London the first time. The one regular - a boy, probably in his late teens and dressing often in black - was in his usual spot under a large tree. His big headphones rested around his neck, but Winter could hear the music that was still playing from them. A large sketchbook was open in his lap, his pencil making quick motions as he sketched on the page. All this was normal. What was not normal was the group of three boys walking towards him, their laughter loud and forced and the cigarettes in their hands short and cheap. They walked like animals that wanted to be predators, unaware how far down the food chain they were. And unfortunately, he saw the moment where they spotted their prey. 

They called a greeting to the boy under the tree, their sincerity so fake that even an emotionally stunted super soldier could see that it was contrived. The boy under the tree knew this as well, sparing only a glancing glare in their direction before moving his attention back to the sketchbook. The boys didn’t care for that, flicking their cigarette butts into the grass (a fire hazard if Winter ever saw one) and making a beeline towards him. Winter altered his pace and trajectory slightly; he did not plan to intervene, but he would if he needed to. 

“What have we here?” the first boy, obviously the leader, snatched the sketchbook from the other boy’s hands before he had time to pull it away. Winter assumed he had poor reflexes, but he stood quickly, his hand shooting out after the book. Unfortunately, the other boy was still faster.

“Give it here.” the boy said, lunging once again for his book. The leader snapped it closed, tossing it to one of his friends with a laugh.

“You need to be faster, Lyle.” he said as his second in command started flipping through the pages, uncaring of how it might need to be handled delicately. He found a page he particularly enjoyed, letting out a whistle and turning the book sideways.

“Lookee here, boys. We’ve got ourselves some nice titties.” he said with a laugh. Lyle (if that was his name) flushed red, turning on his heel and going to grab the book again.

“You little freak! Drawing your own porn?” the leader added, easily catching the book as his friend tossed it back to him. He quickly scanned through the pages, trying to find the one of interest.

“It’s not - it’s  _ art _ -” Lyle tried in vain to defend himself, flustered by both the interruption and the comments. Winter got the feeling he did not share the contents of his sketchbook with anyone. His answer made all three of the other boys laugh, mocking him in high pitched voices.

“Art? Is that what they’re calling this filth?” the leader said, finally finding the right picture. His eyebrows shot up in mock shock. “Oh ho ho, it’s a miracle these pages aren’t stuck together - any more tits in here?”

“Fuck off, Thomas-” Lyle made a valiant grab towards the book again, only to have it thrown by him to the third boy. Thomas laughed gleefully as Lyle made a grab, missing by a foot. The boys stopped teasing about the art and instead started tossing the book back and forth, an annoying game of monkey in the middle. Winter wandered a little closer; they hadn’t noticed him yet, but they were probably about to. 

“Come on, you can do better!” Thomas said at one point, throwing the book long before Lyle even got to him. Lyle didn’t change his movements, instead going straight up to Thomas and shoving the bigger boy for all he was worth. The two other boys let out low  _ ooh _ sounds, the mirth in Thomas’ face changing to something more malicious. “Oh yea? You want to play that way?” He shoved Lyle, making him stumble back a few paces. His two lackeys caught him easily, slingshotting him back towards their friend. Lyle, to his credit, tried to go for Thomas again, but was interrupted by his fist colliding with his face. Blood spurted as his lip split, and this time the two other boys let him fall to the ground. Thomas looked rather proud of himself for someone who was participating in a rather unfair fight, and Winter started silently sneaking up to them. 

Lyle wiped the blood from his lip, smearing it over half his face as he pushed himself to his feet. One of the other boys kicked him from behind, effectively costing him of his balance and sending him back towards his main opponent. He was able to dodge the first fist that Thomas swang at him, but the second came just as fast, this one hitting him in the cheek. A stupid place to punch, if anyone were to ask Winter, but effective as Lyle paused to check his eye. Thomas took the opportunity to shove him with his foot, sending him back onto the rough ground. Winter saw as his stance shifted; he was done punching, and was going to start kicking. It was time to intervene.

“This hardly seems like a fair fight.” he said, just loud enough for the boys to hear him. They all startled, not realizing before that he was there. Lyle stayed on the ground, suspicious of this newcomer but also welcoming the distraction. Thomas was the first to recover, putting up a brave front. He didn’t realize all the minute tells of his face, or how his heartbeat stuttered when he saw Winter. He was afraid of him, but would never admit it.

“Fuck off, old man, this doesn’t concern you.” he said, sneering. Winter perked an eyebrow at that; he knew he appeared somewhere in his thirties, though Thomas wasn’t wrong - last he checked, his chronological age was nearing one hundred.

“It’s three versus one. I’d say he needs another person in his corner.” he replied, easily matching the boys’ accent. He still spoke quietly and confidently, knowing that the cool unease of his appearance would be more rattling than if he were yelling. 

“You’d still be one down.” one of the other boys said, as if that mattered. Of course, they couldn’t know that Winter was trained in multiple forms of martial arts, but still. 

“I think I can help just fine.” he said, never looking away from Thomas. “Leave him be, and we won’t have any trouble.” 

“You’re already starting trouble.” Thomas replied, with all the gusto of an idiot teenager. He turned on Winter, ready to fight. “I said to leave us alone.” He moved to shove Winter, but he firmly held his ground and barely shifted when the force was applied. Thomas furrowed his brows and went to shove again, but ended with the same result. This time, Winter snatched his hand, turning his wrist in a way that sent him to his knees. “Ah! What the fuck?!” Thomas screeched, all his bravado gone.

“I’ll break it.” Winter said calmly. The other two boys looked to each other, wondering if they should intervene and obviously (and rightly) deciding that they shouldn’t. Lyle looked like he didn’t know whether to be afraid or amused. 

“You’re a fucking psycho!” Thomas yelled, his voice shaky and his face pale due to the pain. Every time he struggled, he only got more entangled in the hold.

“Yes.” Winter said, as if he’d commented that the sky was blue or the earth was round. “Have you learned your lesson?” 

“Fucking let me go!” he cried, making Winter increase the hold just slightly. 

“I asked you a question.” he said, letting his voice drop to the cold timbre that he reserved for interrogations. “Do not make me ask again.”

“Yes! Jaysus fuck I’ll leave the fucker alone! Fuck!” he seemed to lose most of his vocabulary due to the pain, but Winter was still satisfied with the answer and let go of his hand. Thomas dropped for a second before scrambling up, putting as much space between himself and Winter as he could. He threw a scathing look towards Lyle and a middle finger at Winter before turning sharply, holding his injured arm and not bothering to check if his friends were following as he stomped away. The boy holding the sketchbook remembered that it was in his hands, dropping it unceremoniously on the ground before following after the others.

“You alright?” Winter asked Lyle, putting his hands back in his pockets and maintaining the distance between them. Lyle spat out some blood before once again struggling to stand, the skin under his eye already turning a dark purple.

“Yea, yea I’ll be fine.” he said, his voice cracking midsentence. He cleared his throat. “Uh, thanks. For that.”

“No problem.” Winter said, giving him a nod before turning to continue on his route. Lyle took a step towards him, making him take an instinctual step away. 

“Wait, uh, sorry, I just…” Lyle trailed off, and Winter wondered if he was embarrassed or scared or both. He took a breath, steeling his resolve. “What you did, with his hand? Can you show me that?”

“You do not have the requisite reaction speed.” he said shortly, and Lyle actually flinched as if he’d threatened physical harm. Winter thought suddenly of the man on the bridge -  _ Steve _ \- and how he used to get into trouble all the time. That was mostly what he remembered about him: getting into fights because of him, or getting him out of fights. Though Lyle looked nothing like Steve and the situation was not exactly similar, he couldn’t help but be reminded by him.  _ I gotta stick up for the little guy, Buck _ . Steve had told him that once, apparently unaware that he himself was the little guy. This must have been the reason Winter thought to stop in the first place.

“Well is there something - I mean, never mind.” Lyle said, shaking his head and going to pick up his book. He was obviously in pain, but didn’t seem too keen on going home. Winter knew he should turn and leave, but something rooted his feet to the ground. It was probably the same thing that had done it in front of the shop earlier. 

“I can show you a different maneuver.” he offered, his voice so quiet he wondered if he’d even said it aloud, and if Lyle would even be able to hear it. But the boy stopped and looked to him again.

“Really?” he asked, half hopeful and half suspicious. The way he stood told him that he hadn’t had anyone stick up for him, at least not in a long time. Winter nodded, his brain whirring as he tried to figure out how to teach the boy without setting off his own reflexes. Lyle came to stand in front of him, waiting eagerly for the instruction. Winter pulled his metal hand from his pocket then changed his mind, instead holding up the flesh one. 

“First, let me see how you punch.” he said. It was a simple but vital part of defense. Lyle made a face but didn’t question him, sending his fist in a wide arc before weakly contacting his palm. “That was ineffective. Try again.”

“I don’t wanna like, hurt you.” Lyle offered, and Winter felt the expression that he made at the sentiment. When was the last time someone didn’t want to hurt him? He quickly schooled his face back to neutral, hoping the moment didn’t give the kid too much insight.

“You can’t.” he replied, nodding towards his hand. “Go on. Try again.”

Lyle swung again, this time with a little more intent. Winter easily absorbed the force of the hit; it was better, but still not good enough. “You have too much extra movement. Think of it less as a swing, and more as a strike.” he said. Lyle nodded, snapping his fist out towards Winter’s hand in a straighter movement. This time, Winter was able to hide his surprise. He had not expected the boy to pick it up this quickly. “Exactly.” he said.

“So I just go for his face like that?” he asked, as the proper way to throw a punch wasn’t golden information. Winter had the urge to roll his eyes, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a very long time. 

“The face has too many bones. You are more likely to injure yourself than them.” he said. He tapped his abdomen, the area just below his sternum. “You want to hit here. It’s a bigger target, and softer. Plus, it will make it difficult for him to breathe.”

“Right. Got it.” Lyle said, actually seeming to soak in the information. But Winter wasn’t finished.

“When he’s doubled over, aim your elbow for the area just lateral to the second through the sixth thoracic vertebrae.” he said. When he got nothing but a blank look in return, he sighed heavily. “The area between the spine and the shoulder blade.”

“Oh. Right.” he said nonchalantly, as if this were common knowledge and he’d simply forgotten for a moment. Winter smirked. “But isn’t there a lot of bones there?”

“The sympathetic chain runs along the anterior aspect of those ribs.” Winter explained, once again getting a look that said the details were above the kid’s scope. “It’ll fuck up his rhythm.” he said, figuring that was the best way to describe an assault on the sympathetic nervous system. This kid didn’t care about neuroanatomy; he just wanted to know how he could win a fight. 

“So hit in the stomach, then smash the ribs.” Lyle reviewed, pointing to the relevant areas on his own body. Winter nodded; though the boy was relatively unathletic, he was a quick study. Just like Steve. “Got it.”

“Good.” Winter said. This time he did turn and start walking away, his mind starting to buzz as bits and pieces of his time with Steve started coming to the surface.

“Hey! Wait!” Lyle called after him. Winter almost didn’t stop, knowing that the more time they spent face to face then the more time he had to recognize him. But he did slow, turning his head so that the kid knew he was listening. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that he was still in the same place. “Thanks. For your help.”

“You’re welcome.” he said. If the boy had anything else to say, he would have to hold his peace. Winter set off at a brisk pace, walking purposefully away from him and back towards his route. He was well behind now; would Summer be worried, when he didn’t return at the correct time? He didn’t have time to think of it, instead trying to split his mind between taking in the details of his surroundings and trying to hold on to the memories as they came back up. There was nothing full, more just glimpses than anything, but many of them unlocked in rapid succession. He would have a lot to think about tonight.

Turns out, Summer was concerned at his timeliness. When he unlocked the door and entered the flat, he found her standing in the living room; it was the perfect spot so she could see through the windows on either side of the flat, as well as the door. Her stance suggested that she had been pacing.

“You’re late.” she sounded relieved as she spoke. He could hear all the things she left unsaid:  _ late means punishment _ and  _ I didn’t know where you were _ and maybe, just maybe,  _ I was afraid you were hurt _ . Before, late always meant disaster in one way or another. But today, just like it had the day Summer went to the bakery, it just meant late.

“There was a boy. Others were harming him.” he said, unsure of how exactly to explain the whole interaction and how it made him feel. She took in a breath, something in her face changing as she stood up a little taller.

“And you stopped them?” she asked. She didn’t sound like she was asking for a mission report; she was asking because she wanted to know. Taking time out for civilians wasn’t even a thought in their heads whenever they were wiped, but now it was slowly becoming a common occurrence. He nodded. 

“He needed help.” he said, unsure why he felt the need to defend himself to her. One corner of her mouth lifted in a smile, and she looked at him with something between pride and affection. He was starting to get it, starting to catch up to her. They were both unsure if their goal of helping people was realistic, if they’d ever be able to do anything to try and counteract all the wrong they did. But one day at a time, they were making it happen.

“Food is ready.” she said, the knot between her shoulders releasing now that she knew he was safe, and the reason for his tardiness. She walked towards the kitchen, passing much closer to him than she usually would, so close that her left hand brushed his as she came even to him. He grasped her fingers, hard at first and then with a soft grip, one that she could easily pull out of if she wanted to. But she let him hold her hand, their arms flush against each other. He ran his thumb over her fourth finger, for some reason believing that something should be there. Her eyes softened, and she leaned her forehead against his. Once again, he felt like he understood her words even though she didn’t say it out loud.

_ We’re doing okay. We’re getting better. _


	19. 32557038 - October 6, 1943

**Chapter 19: 32557038**

**October 6, 1943**

Bucky woke up to a bright light blinding him. At first he thought that this was it, that his number was finally up and he was crossing over to where his mom and dad hopefully were. He was oddly at peace with the sensation; he didn’t regret taking Lu’s place, he only regretted not spending more time with her in life. 

But then the light moved, and he was left with nothing but spots in front of his eyes and a vague sense of self preservation. A man in a hospital mask appeared in his vision, and Bucky immediately moved to grab him by the throat. That’s when he realized that his arms were tied to whatever chair he was on, and another cursory attempt at movement told him that his legs were tied down as well. Panic started seeping into his veins, ramping up as the doctor in the mask began laughing.

“Ah, yes. The first day is always the most difficult.” he said. Bucky was willing himself to calm down, trying to think of the instructions in the sergeant’s manual that he didn’t read detailing what to do if captured. He had no cyanide pills, and had a whole hangar full of people to protect. Death was not going to be an option. “You still have the will to fight. Refreshing.”

“Untie me, and we can talk about fighting.” Bucky growled, pulling as hard as he could against the restraints. They barely gave, digging so sharply into his skin that he had to grit his teeth not to show his pain. The doctor simply chuckled again, moving off to the side to pick up something from a table. Bucky couldn’t see it due to the light blindness, but it sounded distinctly metallic. That made him start sweating. The doctor returned to his position, idly twirling a scalpel in his hands.

“Now soldier, let’s just start with a nice, polite chat. Perhaps some introductions.” he said, his German accent thick as he carefully enunciated his words. “Can you tell me your name?”

His name seemed like the least of his worries, and Bucky knew that was the only information they weren’t supposed to safeguard. “James Buchanan Barnes. United States Army. 32557038.”

“Oh, and an identification number as well? Must be my lucky day.” the doctor said. “And tell me, Mr. Barnes, what exactly was the Army planning to do after your little trip into Azzano?”

“Dunno.” Bucky said shortly, trying to shrug with his restraints. The first thing about lying was that you wanted to speak as much truth as you could, so that you wouldn’t be caught later. Steve taught him that back when they were still single-digit ages and they were out after the street lamps came on. The doctor tsked from behind his mask.

“Now, Mr. Barnes, surely you have a different answer than that for me?” he said in what was probably supposed to be a mollifying tone, but was instead just menacing. Bucky looked him dead in the eye, seeing no spark of life from a human, only a butcher figuring out what to do with the meat in front of him.

“James Buchanan Barnes. United States Army. 32557038.” he said again. Technically it was a different answer. The doctor let out an annoyed breath through his nose. 

“I had higher hopes for you, Mr. Barnes. Word has it that you offered yourself in place of one of your comrades. And now this? How disappointing.” he said. He rested the blade of the scalpel on Bucky’s forearm, looking at it as if he were envisioning where every tendon, vein, and nerve ran. The scalpel lightly trailed down his arm, as tender as a lover’s touch but sending a shiver up Bucky’s spine for an entirely different reason. It came to a stop on the back of his palm. “Where are the Allies gathering their forces?”

“James Buchanan Barnes. United States Army. 32557038.” he repeated. The scalpel pressed into his skin, breaking it just enough to draw blood. Bucky kept his face nonchalant; he’d had worse before. Hell, he’d been  _ shot _ for fuck’s sake. A door opened somewhere outside the light, taking the doctor’s attention away from him. Bucky seized the opportunity, ignoring the way the scalpel tore through his hand as he turned it, grabbing the blade and sinking it into the doctor’s palm. The man let out a howl of pain, quickly stepping back away from him. The pain in his hand was worth the dramatic response he was getting.

“You piece of shit-” the doctor roughly pulled the blade from his hand, raring back as if he were about to slash Bucky’s throat. It would be a slow end, but at least he didn’t give up any information.

“ _ Nein! _ ” whoever walked in said roughly. The voice sounded familiar, though Bucky couldn’t quite place it. He spoke in German to his counterpart, unaware that Bucky also understood. “ _ He is one for the Ecclesiastes project _ .”

Bucky immediately regretted not paying attention more in church. What the fuck happened in Ecclesiastes? “Surely we can make one sacrifice, Doctor.” the first man said, slapping the bloody scalpel down onto the metal tray and grabbing some gauze, trying to stop the bleeding. 

“No.” the other doctor spoke firmly, leaving no room for argument. Now Bucky knew where he’d heard that voice before - it’d been in the field hospital, when he was dying of infection. Dr. Becker moved into the light, grinning at him like he was winning a game. “Hello, Sergeant Barnes. So nice to see you again.”

“Fuck you.” Bucky said back, earning a slap across the face. It wasn’t enough to make anything bleed, just enough to rattle his brain a bit. Bucky looked back to him, giving the most nonplussed look he could manage. “Sorry. Where are my manners? Fuck you,  _ Doctor _ .” 

“You are quite resilient, Sergeant Barnes. That was a nasty infection you had in your arm.” he said, as if Bucky hadn’t spoken again. It was almost posed as a question,  _ Why are you so resilient _ ? Did he not realize that Lu had helped him? Did he think he’d healed all on his own, from one dose of penicillin?   


“Thanks. I drank a lot of milk as a kid.” he said. That was also true; milk always left Steve with debilitating stomach cramps, so Bucky got to drink the one they got at lunch. Dr. Becker grabbed him by the chin, looking into each of his eyes with the turn of his head. Bucky let a lot of rude and indecent thoughts go through his mind, just in case the man could read it. 

“Your resiliency will be tested, and if you survive...well, we shall welcome you to our cause with open arms. What do you say to that?” He acted as if he were offering Bucky the world on a silver platter. He didn’t want it.

Bucky waited a long time before responding, letting the tension build. Dr. Becker thought he was scared, or considering proactively switching sides. He was going to be disappointed. Again. “Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. United States Army. 32557038.”

Dr. Becker sighed in the same way his father had a million times in life. It didn’t make Bucky feel guilty at all, he was rather immune to it. “Very well. The hard way then.” he said, pulling a large syringe from his pocket. He turned to the first doctor, who still looked angry that Bucky had stabbed him and that his colleague had belittled him in front of the prisoner. “Take a vial of blood.” 

“Yes, Dr. Becker.” the man said through gritted teeth. He grabbed some rubber tubing speckled with old blood and roughly tied it around Bucky’s upper arm - a little tighter than was necessary, he thought. His veins immediately grew, and the doctor allowed for little fanfare before sinking a needle into one of them. He did not take the time to sanitize the area, only to push it in and get the blood he needed. When he was done, he did not cover the wound. Dr. Becker reappeared then, mask and gloves on and holding the syringe filled with some sort of yellow liquid. Something about it made Bucky very, very nervous. He tried to shift away as the doctor carefully wiped his arm with an alcohol-soaked rag, but he held him with a surprising strength. He stuck the needle with surprising gentleness despite the rough hold on his arm, and Bucky had no choice but to watch as the syringe dumped the yellow liquid into him. 

At first, he thought nothing would happen. Perhaps it would just be a sedative, or some vitamins to fortify him before whatever torture they were planning next. But then the fire came. It felt like it was ravaging him from the inside out, the burning traveling up his arm until it flared in his chest. He couldn’t stop the gasp of pain then as the heat spread through his whole body, surely charring every inch of his insides. How was he still alive? How was he not burnt to a crisp?

“Take his blood again, then return him to his cage.” Dr. Becker’s voice seemed very distant, and this time Bucky didn’t even feel the needle as the first doctor took another sample. All he could feel was fire, his jaw cramping as he clenched his teeth against the pain. He tried not to cry out, not to give them the satisfaction of his agony, but he couldn’t help the few grunts from escaping. The first doctor was speaking to him, but he couldn’t hear it over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. The world seemed foggy - or smoky, rather - and when another syringe appeared he couldn’t even fight back. 

Luckily, this one was a sedative. 

Lu was the last to awaken in her cage. Logically, she knew it was probably due to her smaller stature and slower metabolism than the men, but it still scared her when she woke up to find the six of them just staring at her. She immediately shot up to a seated position, nearly losing consciousness again as gravity took her blood away from her head. Even with her vision swimming, she pushed herself away from the group until her back hit the metal bars.

“Geeze, sleeping beauty, take it down a notch.” Mullens said. Her vision still wasn’t quite clear, but she could hear another one of the men smack him on the back of the head. She pulled her knees in to her chest, taking slow and measured breaths as everything settled. She looked to one of the older men, Wilson. He was one that she could trust to give her answers. 

“What happened?” she asked. She realized then that the men looked a little worse for wear, moreso than just spending a day or two in a cage. 

“They’re trying to get information.” Wilson said. He sounded tired, and he held himself in a way that said his ribs were at least bruised, if not broken. Lu was confused; how could they get information if they were unconscious the whole time? She looked down at herself, but couldn’t find any new bumps or bruises that weren’t there before they’d been gassed. Maybe Bucky had the answer?

She turned her head to ask him, but noticed his glaring absence from the cage next to her. Wilson and the other men in her cage were gone from her mind as she scrambled to the edge, getting the attention of Dugan. “Dugan. Dugan, where’s Barnes?”

Dugan ran his hand over his mustache, hesitating to answer. “They took him.” he said, in the same way a child talks when they don’t want to get in trouble. Equivocation, she thought the word was. Her annoyance at him hiding the whole truth momentarily clouded over her panic.

“Dugan?” she asked again, her voice shaking slightly and betraying how worried she was. Dugan looked down at his hands, and before he could come up with a satisfactory answer Mullens cut him off.

“Listen, Princess. You’re here, untouched, and he’s gone. Do the math.” he said. Lu spared a glare over her shoulder at him, her ire rising as she spotted the anger in his own eyes. What, was he mad that he got taken and she got left behind? How in the hell was she supposed to help that?

“Dugan?” she said, looking back at someone more trustworthy. Behind her, she heard Mullens moving away, saying something under his breath that she couldn’t quite hear. Dugan looked a little bashful.

“I don’t know for sure what happened...but when they gassed you, he yelled something to them in German. And they took him instead.” he said. Ice replaced the heat in her blood, her stomach dropping to her shoes. 

“No. No, tell me he wouldn’t be so stupid.” she said. Dugan gave a dry laugh and a sad smile, shaking his head. One of the other guys shifted to their side of the cage, looking just as pitiful.

“You know as well as I do that he is, in fact, that stupid.” Falsworth said, resting his hands on the bars. She finally stood up then, ignoring the lightheadedness as she paced in her small corner. 

“But why? Why would he do that?” she said, her heart thrumming painfully in her chest. Why were the rest of the guys from her cage back, but he was still gone? How long ago did they take him? When had the others returned? So many questions swirled around in her head, but she couldn’t grasp onto any of them. It was unlikely they would have any answers anyway.

“I could take a guess.” Dugan said with a smirk that caused a blush to rise unbidden into Lu’s cheeks. She was saved from having to continue that conversation as the elevator sounded again, the doors opening and spilling light into the dark room. Two more people in hazmat suits, with a single body on a cart between them. The person was obviously still alive, twitching and moving slightly in their unconsciousness. The light behind them kept her from making out the details of their face, but the hair...she wanted to say it was familiar, but was afraid to hope so.

She finally let out a breath as the cart stopped next to her cage, letting her see Bucky’s face. He was obviously in pain, even when asleep, but at least he was alive. The men stood across at his cage, holding two batons that sparked with electricity and swatting them through the bars at the occupants, who backed away into the corner. While she still had a moment of opportunity, she reached through her own bars, grasping Bucky’s clammy hand. Even unconscious he gripped her fingers tightly, not wanting to let go. And she didn’t want to let go either. 

“No!” one of the men said. It was probably one of few words he knew in English. He smacked her arm with the baton, the charge going through both her and Bucky at the contact. She stumbled back, falling to the side and nearly crashing her head into the metal bars as she sank to her knees. Her heart was palpitating thanks to the electricity, making her feel like she couldn’t breathe. Her skin was singed where the baton had hit her, the scent of burning flesh making her stomach roll. She heard the metal clang as they opened the cage next to her, dumping Bucky onto the floor. She forced herself to look up, to make sure that he was really there. 

They closed the cage and left without another word, the scraping sounds of the elevator deafening as it echoed through the large room. His cagemates hesitated, looking at him on the ground and wondering what to do.

“Doc?” Dugan asked her this time. She didn’t know if he actually knew she was on the medical staff, or if he’d simply heard Bucky call her that. She thought about saying the usual response -  _ not a doctor  _ \- but it died in her throat. That answer was between her and Bucky.

“Lay him on his back. Stabilize his head.” she said, her voice quiet but steady as she tried to make her assessment from ten feet away. The men leapt into action, moving Bucky’s arms and legs and trying to turn him. “Gently! Gently. We don’t know where he’s hurt.”

“We didn’t get this special treatment.” Mullens remarked from the corner. Lu didn’t think he deserved a response, and instead maintained her focus on the man she actually cared about. Once Bucky was settled, an Asian man stepped forward.

“Hey, I’m Morita.” he said, rolling his eyes as she flinched at his appearance. “Yea yea yea. I’m from Fresno, Doc, chill out.” he added, latching onto the nickname that Bucky started and that the boys in his cage were spreading. Dugan rolled his own eyes at the man’s response, crossing his arms. 

“Sorry, I - sorry.” she finished lamely. She knew they were in this together, and that there was more than one country that made up Asia, but she also still remembered the glaring red eyes from the Japanese planes as they flew past Pearl Harbor. She pushed down her prejudice, knowing that it was unwarranted and unnecessary at a time like this. 

“I have some field medic experience, but I’m not certified like you. So you gotta tell me what to look for.” he said, kneeling down next to Bucky. He was still now after the electric shock, too still for Lu’s liking.

“Is he breathing? Or is anything blocking his airway?” she asked. She didn’t know how much knowledge or experience Morita had, so she was going to have to start with the basics.

“ABC’s? On it.” he said, checking Bucky’s airway and breathing, and then pinching his fingertips and lower legs to check for circulation. “Good to go. Next?”

“Is he bleeding from anywhere?” she asked, pressing her face between the bars to try and see better. A scoff came from behind her, likely from Mullens, but she ignored it. “You may have to look close.”

“Looks like there’s some needle marks up here.” Morita said, pointing to a dark patch on the inner elbow of Bucky’s olive green henley undershirt. “There’s also a slice here on his hand, but it doesn’t look too bad. Neither one of ‘em’s seeping, anyway.”

“Good, that’s good. Any broken bones?” she went down the list, holding her breath as he gently patted Bucky down, looking for any gross deformities in his skeleton. He looked up, shaking his head no. Lu thought about instructing him in reflexes, or neural checks, but decided that would be too much for now. Instead she sat back on her heels, not taking her eyes off Bucky.

“What’s next, Doc?” Morita asked, still poised to continue the examination. She could feel her shoulders sagging, and made an effort to try and sit up straighter, despite the protest from her body.

“Now we wait for him to wake up.” she said. It didn’t come out as confidently as she was hoping. Morita nodded, standing back up and giving Bucky some space. Every minute seemed to crawl by after that, all of them watching to see if there was any movement from him. The elevator clattered back to the floor and they all looked in a panic, wondering if it would be their turn to get gassed and taken. But it was just the same people in hazmat suits with the bags of food, going through the same motions of tossing them onto the roof and allowing them to drop into the cages. Falsworth was one step ahead of everyone, moving to snatch the bag out of the air before it could land on the unconscious Bucky. He was back to twitching in his sleep, his face contorted in pain, but Lu much preferred that to the eerie stillness of earlier. 

The lights went out shortly after that, and Lu was giving herself a headache as she tried to see in the dark. She heard as the men organized in their cage, laying down to get what little rest they could. But she stayed awake, curled up in the corner closest to the other cage, waiting to see or hear anything from Bucky. Her eyes strained and began to fatigue, her body begging her to rest like the others.  _ It’s dark _ , her neurotransmitters said.  _ Dark means sleep _ . 

She wasn’t sure when exactly she succumbed to the fatigue, but she did snap awake some time later. At first she thought it was just her own anxiety that woke her, but then she heard a whisper in the dark. “Doc?”

“Barnes? Hey. You’re okay.” she said, reaching out in the dark towards his voice. Once again, she was reminded that they couldn’t touch each other, but the ghost of his hand still lingered on her fingertips. What she would give just to hold him right now!

“I dunno. That shit hurt pretty bad.” he whispered. She liked to think he was speaking so softly so as to not wake his neighbors, but she had the sneaking suspicion that he just couldn’t physically speak louder at this point. 

“Where at?” she asked. It felt stupid as soon as the words left her mouth.

“Everywhere.” he answered. She heard him take a sharp breath in pain, then fall silent. The pain wasn’t the same as it was before, but it definitely lingered. But the thing that worried him most was that this was the first round, the warm up; the bigger fights were coming up. He was silent for a long time, longer than she liked.

“Barnes?” she asked, hearing him breathe again. “You alive?”

“Yea.” he said, in an effort to sound fine. It made his chest hurt. “Yea, Doc, I’m alive.”

“Barnes?” she asked again, this time quieter, gentler. “Why did you tell them to take you instead?”

The air left him for a different reason other than pain this time. Why would she ask him that? Especially now, of all times? He thought the answer was obvious, the words coming up and sticking in his throat.  _ Because I love you, of course _ . But he held them in, choking them back down to the part of his heart that these Nazi bastards would never get to. 

“I’m not saying it, Doc.” he said. He shifted slightly, looking to the spot where her voice was coming from. “Not here. Not like this.”

“Barnes…” she trailed off, leaving the question or statement or reply hanging in the air between them. 

“You’re a smart girl, Doc. I think you know.” he said, trying to bring up some bold flirtation that he would have given at a different time. It fell flat. “Now, get some rest. I’ll still be alive when the lights come back on.”

“Damn well better.” she said, her own humor not as present as she’d hoped. He heard her shift to get more comfortable, and followed her lead. The metal floor of the cage was anything but cozy, but it was leagues better than the chair he’d been in earlier. The pain was even starting to ebb away, leaving him with a dull warmth instead of the fire. He could live with that. He could come back from that.

He had to. After all, he promised he’d still be there in the morning. 


	20. Retreat - August 12, 2014

**Chapter 20: Retreat**

**August 12, 2014**

Summer awoke to the sounds of Winter getting up and pulling his boots on. It was early, earlier than he usually left, but something about the way he was moving prevented her from going back to sleep. The soft click of the door alerted her to his departure, and without a second thought she got up and assessed the room. Something had changed his routine, and she wanted to figure out what. 

Winter left no signs of what he’d heard or seen, or where he intended to go, except for a single carving of a square onto the butcher block counters.  _ Perimeter _ . Without hesitation, she started packing their limited things. She didn’t know what was going on, but the air told her that something was wrong. And when things went wrong, tactical retreat was necessary. She strapped as many weapons to herself as she could, laying the others out in a convenient manner so that Winter could don them when he returned. She was just counting the last of their cash and stuffing it into her pocket when he returned, his face stony and cold as if they were in the middle of a mission.

“We need to go.” he said, seeming more like Winter than James Buchanan Barnes. With the stress of the situation she welcomed the change; she still did not know James Buchanan Barnes well enough to trust him, but Winter had been her ally for decades. 

“Agents?” she asked, handing him weapons so that he could save the time putting them in their place. He shook his head.

“Scout. Dealt with.” he replied, pulling on his backpack and clipping the buckle in the front. She followed his lead, strapping her supplies in as well. They moved to the door in perfect unison, Winter stopping to take one last sweep before they exited. His eyes paused on something next to where her pallet had been. “Your book.”

Summer turned. Sure enough, the little romance novel that she was halfway finished with laid on the floor where she’d discarded it the night before. It wasn’t important, or essential, but she found herself feeling some sort of sensation at the thought of leaving it behind. “Thank you.” she breathed to Winter, crossing the room in a few quick steps and picking it up, putting it into the backpack as they exited. If Winter thought it necessary to mention it, then it was important enough to take with them. 

“Train leaves soon.” he said, taking off in the opposite direction than she anticipated. The sidewalks were busy despite the early hour, filled with people walking to work or the train station. Winter kept a steady, confident pace - slow enough to not attract attention, but fast enough to be efficient. His hands were in his pockets, the metal arm making his gait slightly awkward. Summer realized that in his haste, he hadn’t taken time to put a glove over it. Even in the low light, it could still be noticed glinting. She moved from his weaker side, ignoring his curious glance as she put enough pressure on the metal forearm for the sensors to register and pulling the hand into hers. He noticed the lack of the glove then, but allowed her to interlace their fingers, effectively hiding it from view. 

Public displays of affection made people uncomfortable. 

Despite having his strongest limb effectively rendered useless by the position, he didn’t feel at a disadvantage. His right arm was still perfectly functional, and he remembered a time long ago where he refused to use the metal arm anyway.  _ Rebellion _ , that’s what it had been. He remembered the surgery where they soldered the metal arm to his body, and the anger that had been woven in with the pain. When he awoke next, he used anything but this foreign matter attached to him. He couldn’t remember when it went from an intruder to his most valued weapon. 

The train station was even busier than the sidewalk, the loudspeaker causing them to flinch every time it announced the schedule. Summer tried to relax her shoulders and seem more casual, but she still felt the burn of a sniper sight between her shoulder blades to the point that she almost asked Winter to check and make sure there wasn’t one there. The only thing keeping her sane was the fact that this was a terrible position for a sniper, particularly one that was trying to take out defectors from a secret underground organization. Hydra did not want any more eyes on them than Captain America had drawn three months ago. Summer and Winter kept their heads down, hiding their faces from security cameras with the bills of their baseball caps. Buying tickets was out of the question - there would be too many people that saw their face - so they would have to carefully lift them. They needed the Euro train, the one that would take them far from England, and they needed the next one out. Hydra never sent just one scout. 

They easily spotted their targets - two men in suits, arguing loudly about finances of some sort or another. The quality of their watches said they could afford another ticket, though Summer and Winter both wondered why they were concerned about that. It did not matter to them if the men made it to their meeting or not. Winter looked to Summer, their unspoken conversation quick as the crowd thickened around the two men. She nodded and he let go of her hand, feeling oddly strange without the pressure there. But he needed to give her space so that she could do her work. 

Summer slowed her pace slightly, watching the people around them until the moment was perfect. To continue on her path, she had to walk right between the men. And a well planned bump from a girl with a massive pack sent her right where she needed to be.

“Oh, sorry,” she said lightly. The ticket was in the man’s inner pocket. How predictable. But his partner’s inner jacket pocket was empty. He gently righted her, giving her a smile that made her insides roll.

“Not a worry, love. Be careful, the station can get a little savage.” he said, as if he had any clue about savagery. She deftly stepped away so that the hand he reached out to lay on the small of her back only met air. 

“Right, sorry again.” she said, trying to remember how to smile and hoping that it wasn’t too much like a cat about to make a kill. She turned to his friend, repeated the apology, and found the ticket on the outside coat pocket. He was just as distracted by her face, and didn’t notice as she quickly swiped it. 

Winter walked by her almost instantly after she turned and continued towards the platform, easily taking the tickets from her hand and continuing away from her. If the men noticed their missing papers with any immediacy, then she would be able to feign ignorance. Tickets? She had no tickets. And neither did they. How unfortunate.

She reached the platform without any issues, moving to a strategic location so they could be first onto the train. As it pulled into the station and the passengers started climbing off, Winter appeared by her side and gave her the necessary documents to board. There were no assigned seats, no names on the papers, no way to trace them to the original purchasers. They boarded without issues, and while Winter knew that it would be smarter for them to sit apart in the train, he could not stop himself from taking the seat next to Summer. Once again they were having to go into uncharted territory, and he wanted his best asset near him. 

Trains were much quieter than they used to be, as well as much faster. They took turns looking out the window or looking at the people around them, switching shifts seamlessly. When the train dipped below the surface, going into the dark tunnel of the English Channel, they were able to admit that perhaps, just perhaps, their retreat had been successful. That thought did not comfort Summer, however. With the darkness of the tunnel and the knowledge that they were in a tube deep under water, she suddenly started to feel as if the weight of the channel above them was starting to press on her lungs. It took every fiber in her being not to indulge the panic threatening to rise in her chest, and for the first time in a long time she was grateful for all the training they had and all the brain damage they’d sustained that allowed her to try and shut down the emotions. It was not rational to be afraid of the train in the tunnel. The water above would not harm her. 

Her emotions must have been more obvious than she thought, as a moment later Winter casually slid his hand over to grasp hers. This was not for the same reason as earlier - they were not playing a part, he was not using her as a disguise. She wanted to glance at him with the question in her eyes, but she did not, because as soon as she had the solid feeling of him she felt the panic subside slightly. Instead of trying to just ignore the feelings, she could instead focus on the pressure of his hand, grounding her to the here and now and not to whatever memory was making her claustrophobic. The touch was different than usual, and with a catch in her breath she recognized the sensation: affection. Winter glanced from underneath the bill of his cap, and for a moment she wondered if it was a ploy, some long standing mission to increase her vulnerability. But he simply shifted in his seat so he could see the doorway better, and laced their fingers together. 

The train ride was simultaneously never ending and faster than she anticipated. It was hard for her to sit still for so long, but Winter was a statue in the seat next to her. There was a brief stop in Lille, then the train continued south. She recognized the landscape as they went through it, but it was not from their time before Hydra. No, they’d been here during Hydra, the familiarity increasing as they pulled into the station. When they were finally out on the streets, surrounded by people speaking French, she recognized the tower standing in the distance, the metal of its construction creating a spiderweb in the sky. 

“Paris.” Winter said. They hadn’t known where the train was going to dump them out, but this seemed as good a place as any. France wasn’t on the black map, but Summer and Winter hadn’t been there since the Peace Conference in 1956. All targets had been eliminated. After that, something pushed Hydra out of France, and any French diplomats they were supposed to assassinate had to be taken out on foreign soil. 

“Almost fifty years.” she replied. It felt wrong being here, even if she knew the inner workings of Hydra stations and locations. She wanted to leave as soon as possible, but whether Hydra scouts expected them to move or to stay was unknown to her. By now they had to realize that their patterns were no longer predictable, and they might be adapting. 

“Not long enough.” Winter said, and internally she was glad that he agreed with her sentiment. With the time on the train he was able to put his gloves on, though they definitely seemed out of place in the warm summer day. The city was bustling with tourists and locals alike, making it difficult for them to see if anyone was following them. But he moved so that their elbows barely touched as they walked and started off towards the center, and it was also easy for them to disappear into the crowd. Again they kept their pace casual but purposeful, walking as if they knew exactly where they were going. A few twists, a few turns, and they could be certain that no one was following them. 

They stole food and water from a cafe, easily sneaking through the back whenever the single person at the counter was busy with other customers. The food in France was richer than it had been in London, and while the richness seemed to overwhelm Winter, Summer found that she enjoyed it. Something about it made her feel more human. She felt energetic afterwards as they walked to the outskirts to steal a car, and when she spared a glance at Winter she found that he was looking at her with the ghost of a smile on his face. Something stirred in her chest then, and once again she found herself trying to push down feelings as they rose within her. He looked at her the way James Buchanan Barnes had looked at Lucille Peters. It was not the exact same look of course - it was subtle, more subdued - but it was there. James Buchanan Barnes and Lucille Peters had been in love, she knew that much. But was there enough of them left now for Summer and Winter to hold onto?

She shook her head, getting her brain to let go of the thought. Now was not the time to worry about the past and how it could change their future. All she needed to know was that, back then and now, Winter was the most important thing to her, and their survival was second. And surviving meant getting out of France. It was easy to steal a car and easier still to find the road south, the French countryside flying by them as they drove. It was so much sunnier here than in London, and Summer kept the window down so that the rays could warm her cold hand as she rested her arm. A hundred times in and out of the ice box, and she could never quite seem to get her hands warm. 

They drove for four hundred miles before switching cars and switching drivers, allowing Summer behind the wheel. She took a quick look at the map to learn her route, then set to her task. Winter, in the passenger’s seat, fell asleep almost as soon as he buckled his seat belt. She realized that, having the later lookout shift the night before, he’d been awake for almost twenty-four hours straight. He slept soundly in the seat, for once exhausted enough not to twitch and groan with a nightmare. She was supposed to wake him as they passed through Switzerland, but let him sleep, waiting until they were at the border of northern Italy before finally slowing to a stop and waking him. He blinked a couple times, looking at her as if he was seeing someone else, but shook off whatever dream was still clinging to him and got out of the car. Another stop for supplies, and one last stop for one last car, and they headed into the mountains. 

It was slow, driving through the mountains, and even slower since night had fallen by the time they started the trip. With their heightened senses they could easily see the road and the route they needed to take, but they could not predict the wildlife of the area, which was much more lively when the sun went down. But at least there were no headlights behind them and none in front of them, and the quiet of the landscape told them that there were no helicopters on their tail. Winter wondered, if they were cats, how many of their nine lives had been used already. He also wondered if they each got nine, or had to share them between them. He glanced at the woman next to him, knowing that if it came down to it, he would give her his last one. She kept her eyes out the window, trying to see through the shapes in the dark. He tried to keep his eyes on the road, but he couldn’t help looking back to her every so often, seeing how her expression changed slightly when she was making out details, or spotted something that interested her. He didn’t think she realized she was even doing it. 

“Wait. Stop.” she said suddenly, causing him to slam on the brakes. She was ready for the impact, easily absorbing the change in momentum. She was looking at an unpaved side road, one that was only wide enough for their little car. 

“What is it?” he asked, thinking she saw something that he didn’t. She didn’t answer, her eyes focused on something in the dark. “Summer.” he said, a little sharper this time. If it was a threat, it needed to be dealt with. Immediately.

“Go that way.” she said, pointing to the road. His first thought was to object, but what would be his argument? They didn’t have a destination in mind, and it did feel like they were driving around with their headlights as giant beacons for their location. Holing up in the mountains wouldn’t be a bad idea.

“What’s there?” he asked. He needed to know that she wasn’t suspecting a threat, though that didn’t stop him from reversing slightly and turning down the road.

“I’m not sure.” she admitted. “Something important, though. I think.” 

The way she said it made it seem like it was something important to their past selves. Hydra had no safe houses in the area; anywhere within a certain radius of Germany was left blank on the map. Either the former Nazis considered it too obvious a hiding place, or they’d made some sort of deal with another organization, just like they did with the black map. Winter didn’t know the details behind the treaties, and he didn’t need to. He just needed to know where he could - and couldn’t - go. 

It was even more difficult to drive down the dirt path, the pebbles causing the tires to skid any time he tried to increase their speed. Hairpin turns took them further up the mountain, the air growing colder with the elevation change. Summer was right, something important was up here. A vague memory tingled at the back of his mind, but it wasn’t quite solid enough for him to hold on to just yet. He recognized each turn with the sepia glow of a memory, but last time they’d been in a Jeep. Summer had been wearing a dress, her skin kissed slightly golden from time in the always shining sun, and her smile just as bright. 

But it was not light now, and even with his enhancements he could not completely see in the dark. All they got was glimpses as the headlights passed over the landscape. One last turn revealed a villa built into the mountain, its windows broken and dark. It seemed more like a tomb than a home, though they distinctly remembered it otherwise. Winter pulled the car to a stop, letting the lights shine on the front steps. The landscape was overgrown and  _ crumbling _ was perhaps a kind word for the state of the building, but they could still see it as it once was. They stared at it, the memories slowly trickling back into their minds as they looked upon the familiar place. 

“This is where they sent us.” Summer said. Her hand unconsciously went to her side; there used to be a wound there, she thought. This is where the long scar on her ribs must have come from. “After the hospital.”

“After we escaped the first time.” Winter said, reminding her. He was right - that had been the first time they’d escaped from Hydra, back when there were hundreds or thousands of men in cages.

“We had help that time.” she said, and Winter nodded. He remembered the man from the bridge, and still had the ghost of relief in his chest when he thought of opening his eyes to see him. 

“Captain America.” he said. Silence hung between them; Captain America had not been there a second time. They did not fault him for this - logically, they knew he believed them to be dead. Their memories told them that he would not have left them if he thought otherwise.

“We managed alright the second time.” she said, walking ahead of him into the villa. He watched her go for a moment.

“Only took seventy years.” he whispered to no one. His voice was so low even Summer’s sensitive ears couldn’t pick it up. He followed her into the house; there was no front door, it had been removed or stolen years ago. Dust and dirt covered most surfaces, and some plants had gone rogue and started growing indoors. The cabinets seemed to be welded shut, though really it was just the ancient lead paint sticking to itself. Summer was easily able to pry it open, though the whole door came off when she did so. Inside there were dishes, still perfectly stacked and perfectly preserved, protected from the outside world for this whole time. The marble of the kitchen island was missing chunks around the edges and had a crack down the middle, but was still functional. It had been ages since the pipes had worked, so washing of any sort was out of the question, but cleanliness was the least of their worries. Summer had taken one of the plates from the cupboard, her fingers gently trailing over the blue pattern still bright on the white ceramic, and he wondered what she was remembering.

“I’ll check the perimeter.” he said, his soft voice feeling loud in the silence. But Summer didn’t flinch; she knew the whole time that he was there. She nodded, still looking at the plate as he turned and went back out the front door. The mountain was quiet around them, and the gravel of the road echoed loudly in the night air. It would serve as a good warning system, if anyone were to come up this direction. But the way the wind carried noises from down below meant that they would hear any vehicle long before it arrived. Above them the mountains were too treacherous for a helicopter landing, meaning agents would have to parachute in. They’d hear the canvas in the wind if that were the case. An exit further into the mountains wouldn’t be ideal, but it would be manageable, and their pursuers would likely have more difficulty with the terrain that they would. He climbed the surrounding area, checking to make sure there were no underground ways carved into the rock, but it was all solid. They could actually be protected here, at least for a short while.

He went back into the house to find an empty kitchen. Footprints in the dust told him that Summer had cleared the first floor for any inhabitants, and had gone up to the second. He followed, putting his own boots in the prints of hers as he climbed the stairs. He kept a knife out, just in case, but the steady, efficient trail was all over the second floor as well. It ended at the last room on the right, where a small light spilled into the hallway. He found her there, sitting cross legged on a swept floor with two of the blue and white plates in front of her. The broom she’d used sat in the corner, and in the candlelight he could see the dust still settling around it. Their rations for the day were artfully arranged on the plates, like they were real people sharing a real meal. The light from the candle made her skin glow and her eyes glitter as she looked up at him, and for a moment he was taken aback by the sight of her.  _ Beautiful _ , he thought to himself.  _ That’s what beautiful is. _

“Clear?” she asked, getting his attention again. He pretended he’d never lost it. 

“Yes.” he replied, sitting down across from her. The doors to the balcony were open, letting the cool summer breeze aerate the room. A rusted metal bed frame was on its side in the corner, leaving room for the pallets she set up. He noticed that they were next to each other now, as opposed to opposite ends of the room like in London. 

“It’s okay?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts again. She’d seen that he noticed the sleeping arrangements. He nodded.

“It’s good.” he said. It wasn’t tactical, or logical, to want to be close to her. But he did. He reached down for the food on his plate, the blue pattern looking so frustratingly familiar as they ate in silence. There were no sounds from outside besides those they would expect, and no sounds inside except their eating. There was something pleasant in the air here, something that reminded them that they weren’t just assets of Hydra now. It wouldn’t be a long term safehouse, but it would be good for now.

“I’ll take first watch.” she said, looking to him. He held her gaze for a moment, wondering what she was thinking, or what  _ he _ was thinking. She seemed to want to say something further, but was holding her tongue. So he just agreed, removing the weapons that would be uncomfortable while sleeping and laying down on one of the mats. He was almost instantly asleep. 

Summer posted up at the edge of the balcony, just inside the doors. She would be able to see, whether with her superior senses or with her sniper scope, if anyone was coming up the long, winding road that led to the villa. Winter was sound asleep again, his face relaxed as he once again managed to not have a nightmare. He rolled over in his sleep once, drawing her attention. He was reaching out over the pallet next to him, his brows furrowed in thought. She thought he would wake then, but he just sighed deeply and curled up like a child. He was so vulnerable in that moment, she thought. Just like she’d been earlier. 

Perhaps they would never be as they once were. But they were slowly figuring out how to be together again, as this version of themselves.


	21. Survive - October 14, 1943

**Chapter 21: Survive**

**October 14, 1943**

There were many cages, with many men. After ten days, they were all starting to look a little worse for wear, with malnourishment and dehydration starting to set in. Every day, the soldiers in the hazmat suits would come, gas a cage, load the men up onto a cart like vegetables for the market, and take them to the elevator. Some hours later, most of them would return. But not all of them. 

Lu tried to help the best she could, passing messages along the cages like a relay to help those that were really suffering after the sessions. Some, like the men in her cage, were tortured for information. Some, like those in the third cage over, were cut open and stitched back up, hoping that the scientists didn’t leave anything behind. Some, like Barnes, were simply injected with something that set their whole world on fire. Those were the men that often didn’t come back. Each time the elevator landed, the whole hangar was on alert, watching with wide eyes as the lackeys chose which cage was next on the list. Today, they came to her cage again - something that she’d been anticipating for the past couple days. Barnes tried to pull the same hero act as before, saying he would take her place, to leave her be, but the men didn’t listen this time. This time the gas knocked her out, and when she woke up she was completely alone. 

The chair was cold and uncomfortable, the restraints digging into the delicate skin of her arms and legs. It dug into the bones of her hips, which were a little more prominent thanks to the recent semi-starvation. She tugged at the leather straps buckling her to the chair, but there was little to no give in them. Panic started rising in her chest - she really,  _ really _ hated the idea of being trapped anywhere - and she had to will herself to calm down, to swallow it back. Panicking would not help her now. In fact, it would probably make it worse. What would Barnes do, in this situation? He was an officer. He had the training for this. 

She did not.

A door opened close to her, but with the lights over her she couldn’t tell who was there. It was only one set of footsteps, moving towards her at a leisurely pace, probably trying to make her more nervous. Really it just made her kind of angry, which also helped with the panic. Finally, a man in thick glasses appeared, giving her an absolutely maniacal grin.

“Nurse Peters. How nice of you to finally join me.” Dr. Becker said, sounding every bit like a sore winner. 

“I should have known.” she said through gritted teeth. No one had as horrible a track record as Dr. Becker, and no one had squirreled their way through so many half-assed investigations. He chuckled lowly, shaking his head.

“I think you did know, my dear.” he said fondly, as if they were actually colleagues, as if she actually had any respect for him at all. “After all, why else would you make so many reports against me?”

“I made no such reports. Last I heard, they were all anonymous.” she said. She may not be trained in surviving interrogations, but she at least knew that she wasn’t supposed to give up or admit to anything. He chuckled lowly, apparently amused by her feeble lie.

“Right, of course.” he said, as though placating a child.. She tried once again to free herself, but she only felt faint burning as the leather rubbed her skin raw. Dr. Becker turned away from her for a second, coming back into the light with a cloth that smelled strongly of alcohol. “You know, your sergeant was very brave, giving himself up for you.”

“Don’t have a sergeant.” she said, cursing herself for the quiver in her voice. He gently wiped at her forearm with the rag, pretending he hadn’t heard her.

“It’s too bad, really. He was just prolonging the inevitable.” he said. He put the cloth down, and picked up a syringe. A quick prick in her elbow, and he drew a vial of blood. “You were both always on the list for the Ecclesiastes project. He for his apparent advanced healing, and you because...well, honestly dear, you always rather annoyed me.”

“The feeling is mutual.” she said, trying not to scream or to cry or give in to any of the hundreds of emotions swirling around in her body. Barnes had come back saying everything hurt, and now it seemed she was about to get the same treatment. 

“The Ecclesiastes project? Thank you for asking.” Dr. Becker continued as if she hadn’t spoken, his tone taking on that of a college professor. He carefully picked up another syringe, this one filled with yellow liquid. He made a big show of uncapping it, holding it up to get any air bubbles out. “Johann and I plan to create a whole race of super soldiers. That fellow over in America was able to do it, but just the once. He’s a dancing show monkey now anyway - a waste. But if we can develop it before they can get back on track...why, wouldn’t that turn things so well for us?”

“Why are you telling me this?” Lu asked. She could feel how wide her eyes were, how short her breaths were. She was past scared at this point, though she wasn’t sure if she was scared to live through this or scared to die.  _ Can’t die _ , she told herself.  _ Then Barnes would win _ . Win what, she didn’t know, but the thought fanned the flame of survival a little more.

“Because this serum - well, it’s just the base, the one we developed to test the body - has a habit of killing those that aren’t worthy of the cause.” he explained. He held no hesitation, no remorse. “Your sergeant survived. But I very much doubt you will. Your female body is rather inferior when it comes to something like this.”

“Test it on yourself too, we’ll see who handles it better.” she snarled. She felt like a caged animal, somewhere between angry and horrified and scared out of her mind. She pulled on the leather again, but it still held fast. 

“No, thank you.” Dr. Becker said. He didn’t leave room for any other persuasion or retort, plunging the needle into her skin and emptying it. Now she understood exactly what Barnes had said, about the serum burning him from the inside out. She couldn’t stop herself from screaming then, her back arching off the chair and her skin breaking where it pushed against the restraints. However, she couldn’t feel any of that over the fire. She didn’t feel the needle when Dr. Becker took more blood. She didn’t hear him laughing at her pain, or the sound of the door closing as he left her there. She screamed until her throat was raw, until her lungs ached, until her head felt like it was going to explode. And then, mercifully, she lost consciousness. 

Bucky found out very quickly that there’s not a lot of space to pace nervously in a tiny cage. The other men gave him a wide berth for an hour, maybe more, but after that their sympathy waned and their annoyance grew. Finally, Falsworth pulled Bucky to the ground, making him sit with the rest of them and wait it out. “It wasn’t us.” he said, as if that would bring Bucky any comfort. He opened his mouth to say something of the sort, but Falsworth cut him off. “It wasn’t us.” he reiterated, and with that he leaned into the corner of the cage and closed his eyes. If their biological clocks were right, they’d be turning the lights off soon, and it was better to get all the dark thoughts out now before the wails of other men losing their minds really dug in. Bucky was resigned to leaning against the bars, facing the elevator doors and alternating between anger and fear. They’d been gone a long time. A  _ really _ long time.

“How you holding up, Sarge?” Gabe shifted next to him. Bucky spared a glance his direction before turning back to the elevator doors.

“Been better, Gabe.” he said shortly. He sighed, regretting being so snappy; these men were just as stuck in this hellhole, and apparently had a different run of things than he did whenever they went in. He knew in his head that Falsworth was right, that they should be glad that the cage next to them got taken today and they were left alone, but that didn’t stop him from worrying about Lu. That was what the men didn’t seem to understand: it  _ wasn’t _ better for her to be taken. “Sorry. Rough day.”

“Been a rough few days.” Gabe agreed. He pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them and following Bucky’s gaze. “Something tells me they want more than just some insider secrets on the Army.”

“I think you’re right.” Bucky agreed. He remembered something in that moment, something that had slipped his mind after the yellow syringe. “Hey, did any of the guys that took you mention an ‘Ecclesiastes project’?” 

“No. What’s that?” he asked warily. Bucky shook his head.

“Just something one of the guys said. I don’t know anything about it.” he replied. He left out the fact that Dr. Becker mentioned that he was  _ chosen _ for it. Being  _ chosen _ sounded terrible at that point. “Actually forgot he said anything about it till now.”

“You should ask the other guys. Maybe they’ll know.” Gabe offered, and Bucky nodded in agreement. Of course, that’s when the lights went off, plunging them into darkness. “Tomorrow. Ask them tomorrow.”

“Yea, that seems like a good idea.” Bucky agreed with a sigh. Gabe shifted next to him again, and he could tell in the dark that the guys were getting ready to try and sleep.

“Take a break, Sarge. I’m sure she’ll be back when you wake up.” he said. Dugan let out a groan at the words, and Falsworth muttered something that Bucky couldn’t quite hear. He chose to ignore both reactions.

“I will in a minute.” he lied. He was going to stay awake as long as he could, just in case they brought Lu back. He knew he’d been disoriented after waking up last time, and with her intense fear of containment she was probably going to need a little bit of help coming out of it. He didn’t trust the chuckleheads in her cage as far as he could throw them. 

A while later - it was impossible to tell if it was five minutes or five hours - the sounds of the elevator grating down the shaft echoed through the dark, silent room. He perked up, his joints complaining about the movement after being stuck in his cramped position for so long. But he ignored the pain, just as he ignored how bright the light from the elevator was. He tried to count the heads on the cart as the men pulled it in, finding that there were definitely less than when the cart left earlier. The backlight prevented him from making out any details as they flung the unconscious soldiers one by one back into the cage, but he knew there was no long, blonde hair catching the light.  _ Maybe they shaved her head _ he told himself. The field uniforms were boxy and unflattering, and could easily hide a feminine shape amongst her distinctly male counterparts. That had to be it. He just couldn’t tell because of the dark. 

“Doc?” he whispered once the men were gone and the elevator doors closed. No sound came from the cage next to him, the occupants still mercifully unconscious. “Doc?” he tried again, but got nothing in return except for an annoyed grunt from Dugan, who kicked his leg to get him to shut up. He almost let his anger get the best of him, but the hangar was as quiet as it ever got, and he didn’t want to risk riling up the men who weren’t handling things as well as the ones in his cage. For now, he had to keep himself together for the good of everyone, when all he wanted to do was yell and scream until someone woke up and could tell him if his girl was still alive, and if she was okay.  _ Fuck _ . 

He got no answer until the lights came back on, and he realized that Lu wasn’t there. 

Morita had the same epiphany a moment after him, and the foresight enough to basically tackle him down before he could raise a real ruckus. “She’s gonna be okay, Buck.” he said, his grip tight on him. “Don’t lose your cool.”

“She’s not there, Jim.” Bucky seethed, not sure if he was pissed or scared or neither or both. With the light, the men in the cage started to rouse. Close enough. “Wilson! Wilson, where’s Doc?”

“Fuck, what? Where - what?” Wilson groaned, rolling over and covering his eyes.

“Doc! Where is she?” he asked again, gripping the bars and pressing his face between them, as if that would give him answers any faster. 

“How the hell should I know?” he grimaced, pushing himself up to all fours. “I’m fine, by the way. Thanks for asking.”

“Obviously, dipshit, you’re here and talking.” Bucky snapped back. “But if you notice, Doc is  _ gone _ .”

“Then she’s probably  _ dead _ . Just like Ramsey.” Wilson said. Wrong answer.

“She is  _ not _ dead!” he exclaimed, rattling the bars and managing to shake half the cage. Morita was pulling at him, trying to get him to let go and turn away. This was not going to be helpful. “She’s not, she can’t-”

“Bucky! Hey!” Morita finally pried him from his post, Dugan coming in with the assist. “Keep your head. You don’t need to draw attention, and Wilson sure as shit can’t help you, okay?”

“But he-”

“Yea, yea I know. But you gotta keep it together.” Dugan said. Bucky stopped fighting, though he still wanted to scream and curse and pry the bars apart with his bare hands. But then he saw the men from the other cages looking, their eyes wide and scared and alternating between him and the elevator doors. As much as he hated to admit it, Dugan was right. 

“She can’t be dead.” he said as convincingly as he could. He refused to believe it until he saw a body with his own eyes. And even then, he might still need further proof.

“Nah. She’s probably just putting up a hell of a fight. Makes the return process slower.” Morita said. Bucky knew it was bullshit, but it was bullshit he appreciated nonetheless. He nodded, taking a deep breath and settling back down onto the floor. There was nothing to do now but to have patience and hope - both of which were on short supply. 

When the elevator arrived again the men all perked up. This was usually about the time the food cart came, which was a small cause for celebration in their current situation. But Bucky found himself hoping that it  _ wasn’t _ food time. When the doors opened, he let out a breath as he saw a cart with two bodies on it, one of which had long, blonde hair. She was still unconscious, and her skin was flushed. The area around her eyes seemed bruised, as if she hadn’t slept the whole time she was gone. Even in sleep, her brows pinched together with pain. Next to her, Mullens didn’t seem any better, and despite the situation the fact that he was so close to her made Bucky grind his teeth in annoyance.

“Did I look like that?” Bucky asked Morita, who’d joined him at the bars. 

“Honestly, she seems to be hurting a little more.” he replied. Bucky’s heart sank into his shoes, then quickly shot back up as the men in hazmat suits got closer. She looked even worse than he thought, and anger boiled in him. His hand shot out of its own accord, grabbing the nearest man in a hazmat suit and pulling him back against the bars. In a second, he had his arm around his neck, choking him against the wall of the cage.

“What did you fuckers do to her?!” he yelled. He could hear the others around him getting agitated, and feel the hands pulling at him to let go. He wouldn’t. Instead, he just switched to German. “ _ What did you do?! _ ”

“ _ Stop! _ ” the other man yelled back in German, brandishing the electric rod. Bucky couldn’t care less; if the man shocked him, he would also shock his partner. Good luck explaining that one to the higher ups. But then he turned the power off, instead just using it as a baton to whack Bucky as hard as he could on the arm. Right where that old bullet wound apparently was still healing. Bucky let go immediately, surprised by the pain that went through him. The man saw his opportunity, turning the electricity back on and shoving it between the bars to hit him. The shock made his whole body seize up, and then sent him to the ground. He blacked out for just a second, but it was enough for the hazmats to shake it off, toss Lu and Mullens back into the cage, and take their leave. 

When he finally came to, Morita was over him, looking rather unimpressed. “You’re an idiot, you know that right?” he deadpanned, offering a hand to help him up. Bucky wasn’t ready to be vertical quite yet, but he took the assistance anyways. He needed to check on Lu.

“Yea, I’ve been told.” he said, pretending that he was holding onto the bars just because they were separating him from freedom, and not because the room was spinning so fast he thought he was back on the Cyclone at Coney Island. When his vision finally settled, he spotted Lu laying flat on her back, clutching her chest in her sleep. He could see the tell-tale signs of her waking up, but she was regaining consciousness  _ so slowly _ . After four and a half lifetimes, she finally opened her eyes. The pain seemed to leave her for a second, allowing her to actually relax. Or maybe, she was just realizing that she was still alive. “Doc?” he called out gently, as if afraid to frighten her. She didn’t turn to him, didn’t move, didn’t look anywhere besides the ceiling of their cage. She was so still he wondered if she’d woken up just to die. “Doc.” he tried again, this time a little louder. She took in a sharp breath, as if she’d forgotten to breathe for the past few minutes, then let it out slowly.

“Fuck.” she said, and he felt like the whole world had finally toppled off his shoulders. She was alive, and she was okay. Well, as okay as she could be.

“You alive?” he asked. It was quickly becoming part of their normal conversation.

“Yea, Barnes. I’m alive.” she said, now a little more strained since she was a little more conscious. “You made this shit look a little easier than it was.”

His blood went cold. “They gave you the yellow stuff?” he asked. He could still feel the effects of it in the mornings, waking up with pain ravaging his body after the nightmare of it gripped him. It wasn’t a pain he’d wish on his worst enemy, but now his love had to deal with it.

“Yea. Becker said he wanted to use the injection to kill me cause I was so annoying to him.” she said, letting out a little laugh that turned into a cough. She rolled over onto her side, finally facing him. She looked tired. “I think I’m surviving on spite alone.”

“Sounds like you.” Bucky agreed, kneeling down to be on eye level with her. His throat felt tight, seeing her in the pain like this and knowing that really, she was supposed to be dead. Hell, that injection made him wish he was, and living through it didn’t seem like much of a win. But if they could survive that, maybe they could survive long enough to make it through this. “Bet he’s gonna be even more annoyed now.”

She smiled, and for a split second she didn’t seem like she had one foot in the grave. He reached his hand between the bars, resting it on the floor between them. She reached out too, though she could barely clear the edge of the cage from where she laid. That was just going to have to be close enough for now.

“I feel like shit too, in case anyone was curious.” Mullens said from where he was laying behind Lu. Bucky rolled his eyes, but was saved from snapping at the man by Dugan.

“Shut up, Mullens.” he said, glaring in the man’s direction. “Just once, try not to be too much of an asshole.”

“Speak for yourself, Dum-Dum.” Mullens bit back, slowly rolling over and getting onto one knee. “You dicks clearly didn’t have to deal with the same shit we did, so  _ don’t tell me to shut up _ .” 

Dugan bristled at the nickname, once again standing tall and puffing his chest like a threatened animal. He brandished a finger at Mullens, the only weapon he had right now. “You just wait till I get out of here. I’ma take out the Nazis, and then you.” 

“Yea, yea, get in line.” he said through gritted teeth. He spotted Lu then, curled up on the floor of the cage. “They get you too, Doc?” 

“Don’t call her that.” Bucky said sharply. He could forgive the men in his cage for it, but Mullens was not allowed. Mullens just glared at him before turning back to her.

“Doc, you okay?” he asked in as smooth a voice as he could manage. It made Bucky’s skin crawl.

“Don’t call me that.” she said. She still laid on her side, keeping her eyes on Bucky. He could see the muscles in her jaw clenching, and her limbs shaking ever so slightly. She was in incredible pain, and there was nothing that he could do about it. 

The elevator landed again, making all of them jump. This time Bucky hoped that it was food, though a sinking feeling in his stomach told him otherwise. Sure enough, there was no cart with the hazmats. Instead, they carried long chains with manacles, and behind them strolled Dr. Becker. There was a glint in his eye that made Bucky freeze for a moment, though really he was just trying to decide how exactly he was going to try and kill him. The hazmats went to Lu’s cage first, gesturing for the others to move over and for her and Mullens to come with them. Mullens, for all his bravado, went pale and silent as they opened the cage. He tried to back away as one of the hazmats came up to him, scrambling into the corner and flailing in an effort to fight them off. But he was still weak from the injection, and succumbed to them faster than he thought. Lu attempted to move away as well, but they easily slapped the cuffs on her, dragging her to her feet and out of the cage. The manacles were latched onto a thick chain, and for the time being they allowed Lu to collapse back to her knees. It made the chain pull awkwardly on Mullens’ wrists, but he didn’t complain. He looked like he was about to piss himself.

Bucky was ready when they moved to his cage. He knew what they wanted, and he knew where they were going to take him. He  _ wanted _ them to come for him next - that would put him right in line behind Lu, close enough that he could almost watch out for her. He wasn’t going to fool himself into thinking he could win a four-on-one fight with his hands cuffed, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t plan and imagine. He kept his eyes on Becker the whole time, thinking of all the ways that he could wipe that stupid self-satisfied smirk off his smarmy face. The hazmats pushed back the other men in the cage and put the cuffs on him - much different than the ones issued by the NYPD - before leading him out to the chain, the metal clasps clanking loudly as they settled into place. The hazmats moved on to the next cage, leaving one in charge at the front of the line, a strange looking gun cocked and ready. 

Bucky meant to kneel and comfort Lu, or at least help her to her feet, but Dr. Becker began strolling towards them. Bucky was ready for the ridicule, or the threats. He was not ready for the man to instead go to Lu, putting his finger under her chin to lift her face. He smiled at her tenderly, though there was nothing but coldness in his eyes. She glared at him with all the hate she could muster.

“You are going to regret surviving, my dear.” he said softly, as if murmuring a sweet nothing to her. The words sent a chill down both of their spines, and as he stepped away Bucky decided to take his chance. He took one lunging step, but his motion was stopped by the eerie sound of the gun charging up, and the force of Lu’s hands on the chain. 

“Don’t, Barnes.” she said. The barrel of the gun was trained on him, and Dr. Becker was just within reach - if only Lu would let go of his hand. “Don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“Listen to the lady, Sergeant Barnes.” Dr. Becker taunted. Bucky could hear more soldiers getting added to the chain behind him, but he only had eyes for the doctor. “She’s smarter than she looks.”

Bucky didn’t have anything to say to him in English, German, Italian, or Pig Latin that wasn’t a rude and scathing remark. He wanted to let all of them out, but that weird gun was still whining like a tea kettle about to blow, and Lu’s hands were trembling on his. So he gripped her hand and held his tongue, hoping his hate was showing through in his eyes.

“Where are you taking us?” one of the soldiers behind him asked, his voice shaking as he asked it. Bucky knew he should be scared, but he was too angry at that moment to entertain any other emotions. The doctor smiled, though there was no kindness behind the gesture.

“You all are special. As such, you get new living quarters.” he said. That was the only information he offered, and there was some murmur about where these ‘quarters’ possibly were - could be a laboratory, or a death ditch, or actual living quarters. The last manacles clicked into place, and Dr. Becker signalled for the hazmats to take them to this new place. Bucky helped Lu to her feet, keeping a hand on her back so she knew he was there. They led them out of the hangar, down a long flight of stairs into another level of basement. It felt so deep that even God couldn’t hear them from down here. The hazmats kept their guns on them, while Dr. Becker unlocked and opened a door with a flourish, welcoming them to their new home.

Turns out, the new quarters were just another cage. 


	22. Release - August 29, 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: saucy bits ahead

**Chapter 22: Release**

**August 29, 2014**

Winter wasn’t sure he knew how to be around Summer anymore. 

It was scary easy to fall into a pattern at the villa - they had their shifts at night, keeping watch for anyone coming up the drive or down the mountain. They made their way once to the town nearby to get supplies; it was big enough to have what they needed and keep them anonymous, but small enough that they didn’t feel overwhelmed by the crowds. It was supposed to be a quick trip to get enough to last them a couple days while they developed a plan, but their hands seemed to grab things of their own accord, and their bags were fuller than they’d been...perhaps since the last time they were here, in the ‘40’s. 

The villa gave them a false sense of security that both of them acknowledged, but weren’t willing to give up. And spending so much time in such a familiar place left them feeling things they hadn’t felt in a long time, and seeing things in their dreams that for once weren’t the horrors from their recent lives. They were caught in a weird limbo between their old selves and their current ones. At times, Winter looked at Summer and saw the assassin, the machine, the asset that he’d worked with for the past however many decades. But then sometimes, in the early morning when the sunlight bathed her face, or when she cooked meals for them in the evening, he saw her as she used to be, and it made his heart thrum painfully but left it aching for more when the moment passed. And sometimes, when she caught him looking, he thought she felt the same way too. But he also knew that it was up to her to initiate it. That was the way it happened the first time through too, allowing her to lead. It was barely in his nature then, and nearly nonexistent now. It was only the knowledge of her importance that gave him the patience, and the deeply rooted loyalty that told him this was the right course of action.

After a week, they had to make another supply run. And the next week, another. This one he did alone, once again focusing on getting the essentials even though his subconscious seemed to pull him towards other things. They did not need wine, or cheese, or little bundles of herbs. These things were unnecessary. So why did he feel like he was supposed to grab them? In the end, he was able to overcome these urges, shoving them down the way he shoved down the fear when he woke from a nightmare. He still had dreams about the chair, or the lab coats, or the men with the scalpels. But those were not the dreams that left him gasping for breath, his heart nearly hammering out of his chest. No, that came from the dreams where an unknown enemy dragged Summer away from him into the dark, and no matter how fast he ran he could not catch up to them. He did not fear death. He only feared losing her. 

He took an alternate route back to the villa, as convoluted as he could manage in order to lose any tail that might be on him. But no one was following him this time. There were no scouts, or agents, or operatives. There were just tired Italians, going about their evenings. The villa seemed empty at first as he walked up, but then again it always did. The front door was open, but not because of intruders; Summer insisted on keeping the doors and windows open, since there were no viable sniper positions at the front of the house. He knew how she felt, considering he felt the same - he didn’t like being closed in if they didn’t have to be, and the sunshine and breeze felt nice. The third day they were here they swept all the floors and wiped down all the counters, fighting through who knows how many years worth of dust and making the place habitable again, at least for the foreseeable future. 

He found Summer in the kitchen, the sunset making her hair seem extra golden as it spilled through the open windows. She stood at the kitchen island, her brows pinched in concentration as she stared at a small bag of flour and two eggs. He’d assumed she was just going to make the eggs for supper while he was out, but the stove was off and nearly everything was the same as when he left. 

“Alright?” he asked, going to place the bags of supplies down on a different counter. She didn’t glance up at him, instead just looking at the ingredients in front of her.

“Trying to remember something.” she replied, her attention never completely shifting from the items in front of her. He came to stand next to her, looking down at the eggs and flour as if they held some long hidden secret. Whatever she was trying to remember, it was her memory and hers alone. 

“Don’t hurt yourself.” he said, only the vaguest amount of sarcasm painting his words. Of course she caught it, sending a glare at him out of the corner of her eye. He lifted one corner of his mouth in a smirk before pushing away from the island, turning on the stove so he could make coffee in the ancient little percolator they’d found buried in the back of one of the cabinets. It had required a sturdy scrubbing, but now it too gleamed in the evening light as Winter set it to work. Behind him, he heard the crinkling of the bag of flour as Summer carefully opened it, her movements slow and hesitant as she tipped it over and spilled some of its contents directly onto the island. The flour formed a small mountain, the finer particles of it dancing in the sunlight coming through the window. He stopped, watching as she tried to piece together her memory.  _ What are you making? _ He wanted to ask, but didn’t want to risk interrupting her. 

Her hands paused over the flour mountain, then she carefully touched the top of it. She only used one finger at first, adding two more as she remembered how to make the mountain into a basin. She moved deftly, her body remembering the movements that her mind did not. She picked up one egg, carefully cradling it in her hand. He knew she was testing the tensile strength of the shell, making sure she wouldn’t hit it too hard. He still did it every time he made them. One swift  _ crack _ against the counter and the shell broke, just enough for her to pry it apart and drop the egg into the well. She repeated the gesture with the second one, then stopped as she tried to recall the next step. He wished he knew what it was so that he could give her the information, but whatever she was doing was lost on him.

The lapse only lasted a few moments, then she began pinching at the eggs, breaking the yolks and mixing them with the whites. Then she started stirring, ever so slowly incorporating the flour from the area around the eggs. The white flour was first a stark contrast to the yellow of the eggs, but it quickly incorporated into the mixture. Soon, it was too thick for her to just mix by stirring, so she started folding it together until it was all one cohesive, yellow mass. Something tickled at the back of his mind - he was so close to figuring out what she was making, to remembering what she was doing. She kneaded the ball of dough, her hands flexing as she made sure not to put too much strength behind it. It was such a simple movement, and yet he was completely transfixed by it. She finally stopped, leaving the dough on the countertop and covering it with a towel. When she turned to him her eyes immediately met him, as if she knew that he’d been watching the whole time. A different man might be embarrassed, but Winter just looked right back at her. 

“Is the coffee ready?” she asked, bringing him out of his reverie. He tried to bring the blood back to his brain from where it was tingling in his arms and legs, reaching back to grab the hot percolator by its metal body and pouring the steaming coffee into the waiting mugs. They were old and chipped, just like the rest of the dishware they’d found in the villa, but they were functional. He handed one of them to Summer, who also ignored the heat and took a long sip of it. 

“What brought this on?” he asked, nodding towards the dough on the counter. Summer glanced at it, as if she’d forgotten for a moment that it was there. She idly wiped a stray bit of flour from the counter, watching as it fell towards the floor. The floor that they’d just swept. Winter chose not to comment on that.

“Had a dream.” she said finally, shrugging and taking another sip of coffee. “Different than the usual ones. Wanted to see what would happen if I acted on it.”

“Food of some sort.” he said. She nodded, tapping her mug for a second before shifting her focus to the groceries.

“Busy at the market?” she asked, putting her coffee down so she could organize what he brought back. It was mostly non-perishables, things that they could pack up at a moment’s notice and would last them long enough to get to their next stop. But there were also a few fresh items; objectively, they knew that fresh fruits and vegetables were beneficial for their health, despite their inconvenience. It was irrelevant that they really enjoyed the flavors.

“No.” he said. The single word filled in all the follow up questions: no, there were no signs of Hydra. No, he wasn’t followed home. No, they have nothing new to worry about for the time being. She nodded, picking a few of the vegetables from the bag and rinsing them in one of the bowls of clean water on the counter. The villa no longer had reliable plumbing nor running water, but there was a stream nearby that ran relatively clear, and a stove where they could boil the water. Winter didn’t like just keeping bowls of it around, but that was what they would have to do for now.

Once she finished washing, she moved to get a pan, putting it on the stove and carefully measuring some oil into it, then followed that with a small pot with some of their precious water set to boil. Winter chopped the vegetables while she was doing so, the knife glinting with every quick motion. It only took him a few moments before they were ready, all in small, equal pieces on the countertop. He dipped the knife in water and then wiped it on his pants, not thinking about the difference between wiping water and blood off the blade. He left the vegetables for her, and she deftly scooped them up and put them in the waiting pan. Then she went back to the island, this time armed with a long wooden cylinder - a  _ rolling pin _ he realized, the word coming to him after a second - and got the dough out from under the cloth.

The sensation in the back of his mind came back as she started rolling the dough onto the counter, making it as thin as possible. He’d seen this before, seen her do this before - but what was it? He felt like he was looking at it from the wrong angle. He kept his eyes on her as he walked around the island, trying to find the moment when the memory clicked into place like a puzzle piece. Summer didn’t stop her movements, but her eyes did glance up from her task periodically as she tracked his movement across the kitchen. He finally stopped next to the stairs, nearly hidden in shadow. He saw her as she was, yes, but now there was an overlay of the past version of her. She hadn’t been alone then - there’d been another woman with her, though Winter could not remember her face. He could only remember her voice.

_ This make your sergeant happy _ . In the past, Summer had blushed at the comment. When she had rolled the pin across the island, she listed to one side. She’d been injured then, or recovering from an injury. Now, she stood ramrod straight, though her movements were just as slow and calculating as before. She paused, leaving the sheet of dough on the island so she could stir the food in the pan before it burned, then returned to her task. She carefully rolled up the flattened sheet, then used her knife with quick cuts to form long strips.  _ Pasta _ . That’s what she was making. When was the last time they ate pasta?

Her movements were more confident after that, dropping the strips into the boiling water and removing the other pan from the heat. Not ninety seconds later she reached in with her bare hand, pulling the cooked noodles from their watery depths. The pan hissed as the extra water hit it, steam rising from it and making her face flush. A few more reaches and a quick stir later, and supper was ready. She poured it onto the waiting plates, making something that looked more like a meal than anything they’d made the past few months. She slid one of the plates to the opposite side of the island, along with a fork. That was to be his portion. She was already eating by the time he got to it, despite the obvious temperature. He followed her lead, twirling the noodles and spearing the vegetables to form a bite. 

The Italian woman in the past had been right. This did make him happy.

He must have stopped for a moment, because when he came back to himself Summer was looking at him with a question on her lips. He couldn’t quite decipher the expression on her face, and when she spoke, it was only one word. “Good?”

That wasn’t the word he would use to describe this, but it was the best one he could come up with at that moment. “Good.” he replied, and this time he could tell her expression - relief. A warmth rose in his chest, not due to the heat of the food, but from the whole situation. Homemade meal. Sunlight in the windows. Summer, at ease across from him. Part of him knew that this was just a blip in their timeline, that death and destruction were sure to find them again. This was as much a dream as the ones that occasionally visited him at night. But it was a good dream, and he was going to hang onto it as long as he could. 

“Thank you. For making this.” he said as they finished, making Summer’s hand pause from reaching across the island for his plate. “I’ll wash.”

“You’re welcome.” she said automatically, though a bit surprised. “I can help.”

He shook his head, keeping his mouth shut to prevent himself from commanding her. They were an equal partnership now, he wasn’t in charge. “Get some rest. I have first watch.” he said instead. His instincts wanted him to hold her, to show his gratitude with affection. But that might send her fleeing, and he could not afford that. She nodded, looking like she wanted to say something more, but instead opting to turn and head for the stairs. He tracked her movements in his mind’s eye, hearing her barely-there footsteps as she crossed the landing down to the last bedroom on the right. The sun was well below the horizon now, it’s last rays painting the sky red and blue and purple. Were the colors always this bright? Or had he simply never paid them attention before? 

It was dark by the time he finished cleaning the kitchen, a vague sense of annoyance rising up at the flour on the counter. This was not the first time he’d cleaned this up, that was for sure. He wanted to make sure that the room was spotless, but even with his enhanced senses he was unable to see it all in the dark. It would have to wait until the morning, then. 

His footsteps were nearly silent as he went upstairs. Summer had lit the candle for him, and its low glow flickered from the open door. She was already asleep with her head turned away from the light, but had set up their best distance rifle for him at the open balcony door. He felt the same warmth as earlier as he noted the line of her jaw, and the curve of her waist, and the twitch of her fingers as she grasped the blankets just on his side of the pallet. In another life, he could simply lie beside her and take her hand and join her in sleep. But tonight, he blew out the candle and took up his position by the window. 

The night was dark, the moon hidden by thick rain clouds that seeped their way into the sky over the past next hours. The air was heavy, but not in the same way it’d been in Florida. When the clouds finally burst, he didn’t feel like he was drowning. Instead, it felt like a release, some sort of long-forgotten cleansing ritual. Lightning peppered the sky occasionally, but it was so far away that he barely heard the thunder that followed it. Summer shifted in her sleep and Winter allowed his attention to move from the path outside to her. She made a low noise in her throat, and initially he thought she was having a nightmare, reliving some of the pain Hydra put her through. She made the noise again, rolling onto her back and taking a deep breath, her chest rising. Once again, he found his body reacting before his mind did, recognizing that she wasn’t, in fact, having a nightmare. No, she was having a very different kind of dream. He wondered if he was in it.

He looked back out the window, cursing himself for these thoughts and his body for betraying him. Summer was quiet behind him for the time being, and the cool wind blowing in from the rainstorm helped to calm his sizzling nerves. He gripped the rifle tighter, as if that would help ease the tension that had sprung up so readily. The sound of the rain gave him something to focus on besides the shift of the blankets behind him, and it was just loud enough to cover up her murmuring. But then the rain lulled, just for a moment, and he heard it.

“Barnes.” Summer breathed, making him snap his eyes to her. It was the first time she’d said his name - his supposed  _ real _ name - and it wasn’t in malice, or the bark of an order. It was marked, somehow, with pleasure.

He silently put the gun down and moved towards her. He shouldn’t wake her, he should keep his post, but some buried instinct was driving him so strongly that he ignored protocol completely. Her chest was rising and falling quicker now, and he could practically hear her heartbeat rising in time with the rain. He reached out, hesitantly, and laid a hand on her arm, feeling how her skin was uncharacteristically warm. Her eyes flew open at that moment and she sprang off the pallet to leap on him in attack. He responded quickly, using her momentum to roll her underneath him. She, in turn, used  _ that _ momentum, rolling them again so that she was on top, her legs straddling him. Her hand was at his throat; his knife was at hers. 

Her breaths were short, and her gaze strong even in the minimal light. Her eyes looked dark when the lightning flashed, but not in the way he was used to. He could still feel the heat radiating from her, her legs squeezing his hips ever so slightly as her eyes held his, a question in their depths. He held his breath, watching as she shifted and gasped with the contact she didn’t realize was present. He lowered his knife, leaving himself open, unarmed, and in her hands. He wanted to pull her closer, but he didn’t dare move. 

“Take what you want.” he murmured, his voice barely registering over the sound of the rain. She moved again, feeling him underneath her and discovering exactly how his body was betraying him. She moved closer, her hand finally letting go of his neck and coming to rest on his chest. It was exactly like it was back in London, except this time she didn’t move away. 

“Do you know what I want?” she asked, a subtlety in her voice. He nodded; he may have been brainwashed, but he hadn’t forgotten one of the more basic human impulses. Her nose brushed against his, a tender moment of affection. They’d had a few of these before, but not this close. She still looked at him with a question, and he nodded again, turning it into something akin to a nuzzle. Then finally,  _ finally _ , she kissed him.

They both remembered kisses from before. They even remembered kissing each other. But this was something completely different. Every place where they touched felt alight; their lips barely grazed each other, but it felt like the first taste of water after living in a drought. She pressed up against him eagerly then, and his hands went to her legs, gripping her thighs tightly. Each time she moved against him it made her legs twitch and squeeze, and he wanted nothing more than to make her respond bigger, more. Something broke in them, liberating them from one of the chains that Hydra had tied around their necks. They were free to feel  _ good _ again. 

Her hands ran over his chest before pulling him roughly flush against her. His hands were at her back, squeezing her tightly to him. Suddenly, after weeks of tiptoeing around each other, they couldn’t get close enough. He pulled at the hem of her shirt, having to fight it through the closeness of their bodies in an effort to get it up and over her head. He took advantage of her momentary blindness, latching his lips onto her neck. She gave a noise of surprise at first, and for a moment thought to push him away, but then the sensation sank in and she found herself holding his head there, encouraging him to continue. He did not bother being gentle; any marks he left would likely be healed by morning. 

Soon she grew tired of the fabric of his t-shirt chafing against her stomach, and clawed at it to pull it off of him. Lightning flashed again as he did, his metal arm gleaming as he threw the offending article of clothing to the side. His lips returned to her neck, then dropped lower to her collarbones. The chill of his metal hand sent goosebumps over her skin, but she didn’t care. She was more focused on how he pushed up her sports bra just enough to expose the soft area underneath, his tongue going to explore the most sensitive parts of her. A brief moment of feeling overwhelmingly exposed was quickly replaced with an overwhelming pleasure. And no matter how wonderful things felt, she wanted more.

She pulled away from him, his lips detaching from her with an audible  _ pop _ . He let go of her, stopping his motions immediately in the case she had changed her mind. While he was so aroused he thought that his whole body might explode, he was not going to force her into anything she didn’t want. Hydra had already done that to her - to both of them really - too much. But she wasn’t scrambling off of him to put space between them. In fact, she was already missing the warmth of him against her, and the pressure of his hands holding her. She started pulling at the strings of her boots so hard that he could hear the fibers straining, and he realized that she was simply undressing further. He quickly followed her lead, nearly tearing his boots and jeans in an effort to get them off. 

It was not the first time they’d been naked in front of someone since forced into servitude. But it was the first time they’d  _ chosen _ to be naked with someone, and there was a brief moment of vulnerability, where they realized that maybe, just maybe, they were still people, and not just weapons. Summer climbed back on top of him, but this time her movements were slow and deliberate instead of frantic. She wanted to take note of every point where his skin met hers, of every noise that he made and every movement that he took. Winter had the same thought, and took the time to run his hands over her legs, up to her waist, over her ribs and then up to her face. She’d been running the show this whole time, but he took this one moment to initiate a kiss - and she allowed it. Their intentions were obvious at this point, and their physiological readiness just as much so. Flashbacks ran through Summer’s mind as she hesitated - but then, when it came to Winter, when had she  _ ever _ hesitated?

“Yes?” she asked, rocking her hips against his and eliciting a groan from him. She wanted to hear it again. 

“Yes.” he breathed, gripping her behind and pulling her closer. 

Sliding into her was as easy as sliding into a warm bath, and just as satisfying and comforting. Their senses were going crazy, their enhancements only accentuating every bit of pleasure that each step elicited. When she started rocking her hips they both nearly saw stars, and she forced herself to slow down before they completely lost control. Their training wouldn’t allow them to be loud, but a quiet whimper of a moan escaped her when his thumb found a spot between them, right above where they were joined. She knew she would have bruises where his metal hand grasped her, but she didn’t care; if anything, the bit of pain mixed in with all the goodness only heightened her response. He continued his ministrations, guiding her into a faster rhythm that was leaving them both panting. She leaned back to give him more room, resting her hands on his thighs as she followed his instruction. The new angle found something in her that made her breath catch and her hands clench, and now she didn’t need his encouragement to pick up the pace. Sweat glistened on their chests despite the cool air of the night, their quiet breaths just loud enough to be heard over the storm. She felt something building low in her abdomen, foreign and yet familiar, and chased after that feeling until something coiled tightly within her - and then released. 

Relief the likes of which she’d never known washed over her, and she quickly changed her position to clutch Winter’s shoulders, her motions stuttering and slowing as she rode it out. When the feeling left her she slumped against him, holding him tightly to her as her affection bubbled up within her. She couldn’t say she loved him - she didn’t know if they were capable of love anymore - but she’d never trusted anyone like she trusted him, and she never would again. He held her tight for a breath, letting her have her moment, but she could still feel him quivering, trying to keep himself still until she’d calmed.

“May I?” he asked, his voice muffled by her shoulder. She did not trust her voice and nodded instead, humming lowly as he kissed her neck again. The gesture helped her body switch gears again, easing the oversensitivity and relaxing the parts of her that were beyond tense just moments before. His metal arm wrapped around her waist, easily holding her to his chest as he rolled her onto her back and settled atop her. The deep pressure of his body on hers was welcome, helping desensitize all the nerves that were lighting up like fireworks. There was some soreness as he started moving again, but it was neither bothersome nor unwelcome, and once she fully came back to herself she wrapped her legs around him, crossing her ankles at his low back and giving him the reins. He needed no further encouragement, burying his face in her neck and thrusting with a deliberate speed. She knew there were things she could say, things she could whisper in his ear that would hurry his release, but they were all lost to her at that moment. All she could focus on was the way he moved, and the sounds he made, and how for once everything they were doing seemed  _ right _ . 

He could feel his end fast approaching, and while he thought he maybe should tell her or warn her, he found his voice was caught in his throat. All of his brain power was split between the sensations around him and trying not to harm her on accident, though he knew she was as unbreakable as he was. She tilted her hips and squeezed him just right, letting him go just a little bit faster - and that was all it took. His rhythm stuttered and changed as he peaked, her hair muffling the groan that escaped him as the good feeling spread through his whole body. They’d been denied a lot of good things when at Hydra, and they’d encountered a lot of good things since they’d walked away, but the feeling of holding her close and experiencing this again might just be the best thing in recent memory. 

She held him tightly as he slowed to a stop, both of them fighting to catch their breath. They didn’t want to let go of this moment, at least not yet. Right now, they almost felt like their old selves again. When they let go, they’d have to go back to being Summer and Winter. And so she held onto him, just a few seconds longer, and his arms maneuvered underneath her to embrace her back. 

He didn’t immediately get up, instead just rolling off of her and onto his back. He could feel his sweat, and was glad that they’d swept the debris from the floor. Their hands barely touched, and neither one of them moved until a firm breeze blew through the window, replacing the smell of sex with the cool refreshment of the earth after a rainstorm. The rain had stopped, the last of it dripping from the roof and onto the gravel below like a jazzy staccato, the soundtrack to their night. 

Summer was the first to sit up, reaching for her discarded clothing and pulling them back on. She turned to Winter, who was resting with one hand behind his head and watching her. “Alright?” she asked. A grin ghosted across his face and he nodded.

“Alright.” he said, still not moving. Then, surprisingly, he added, “Could use a cigarette.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, she found herself craving one as well. “Should have gotten some today.” she replied, strapping her boots back on. She had the urge to kiss him again and pushed it down - but then she wondered, why shouldn’t she? She crawled over, leaning down to press her lips to his one last time. The movement still felt forbidden, but the gratification far outweighed it. 

“Hindsight.” he murmured as she pulled away. She gave him an annoyed look, pushing back so that she could take up the position at the window.

“Go to sleep. It’s my turn for watch.” she said. He didn’t reply, only nodded and dressed before settling down on his side of the pallet. After a couple hours, she noticed that his breathing was deep and even, and he actually hadn’t moved in that whole time.  _ Lucky bastard. _

The moon allowed her to keep a good eye out, and her vision felt clearer, her head steadier. Sex wasn’t a cure-all, she knew that. But it had been something they wanted in order to undo some of what was done to them. It wouldn’t be a one time thing, and she didn’t want it to be. Winter was her everything - and she wanted all of him. 

Their position in the villa was perfect, defendable. But they couldn’t defend against infrared goggles, especially those designed to work miles away. The villa was good for now. But it would not be good forever. 


	23. Truth or Truth - October 22, 1943

**Chapter 23: Truth or Truth**

**October 22, 1943**

“...and that’s how I got arrested the first time.” Bucky finished. He leaned up against the wall of bars separating his cage from Lu’s, his head resting between two of them. Lu mirrored his position, her shoulder barely touching his through the space. They’d been sitting here for a few days (how many, they weren’t sure) with no interruption besides for the minimal food they were given, and had resorted to playing whatever games they could. It had taken Lu a little longer to recover from the serum than Bucky, but now she almost felt back to normal. The only thing that seemed common between all of them now was frequent night sweats.

“So it was all Steve’s fault?” she asked. It had been a long and funny story, and he’d seemed so happy telling it that she wanted to see him relive it for just a little longer. Technically it counted as a follow up question and against the rules of the game, but he would allow it this time.

“Absolutely. Everyone thought Steve was as straight-laced as they came, but he was an avid trouble maker. Spent most of my childhood trying to get us out of the messes he got us into.” he explained. It was a bit of an exaggeration, but he figured there was no harm in it. “Alright, Doc. Your turn. Truth or truth?”

“God, can you two idiots shut up?” Mullens grumbled from the other side of Lu’s cage. Neither one of them honored him with a verbal response - Bucky just raised a hand to flip him the bird without looking at him. If they were going to be stuck here waiting for the Nazis to decide whether to kill them or do more weird experiments on them, then they were going to have to make the best of it.

“Hmm, tough choice.” Lu said, tapping her chin in thought. “Guess I’ll go with truth.”

“Where are you from?” he asked. He’d been saving that question for a while, trying to lull her into a false sense of security until she was in a situation where she had to answer. She sent a glare his way before sighing deeply, settling back against the bars. 

“I can guarantee you’ve never heard of it.” she said, pulling her knees up to her chest. 

“That’s not an answer.” he replied, giving her a look even though she refused to meet his eyes. Finally she grumbled and sighed again.

“Hemmingsburg. Virginia.” she admitted, as if that meant anything to him.

“You’re right, I’ve never heard of it.” he admitted, unable to hide his grin. She pursed her lips, as if annoyed that she had to think about her hometown.

“It’s a small place with a small population of people with small ideas.” she said, her tone scathing. He raised his eyebrows, surprised that he was getting such a response from such a simple question.

“What made you leave?” he asked. His parents had told him about the smaller town he’d been born in, back in Indiana. They’d left because no one ever seemed to, and they didn’t want to subject their family to that. 

“Ah ah, that’s another question.” she said, wagging her finger at him reproachfully. He  _ hmphed _ in frustration, rolling his eyes as she smiled triumphantly. “Truth or truth?”

“Ah, fuck, uh,” he pretended to think about it for a long time. They heard Mullens make another annoyed noise, but once again they ignored it. “Truth. No wait, truth.”

“What’s something you regret?” she asked, and for a second the question startled him. Then he remembered where they were, and the situation they were in. This wasn’t some girl at a party trying to pretend to be philosophical, or one of his friends with their drunk thoughts. 

“The last night I was in New York,” he started, pausing to try and gather his thoughts. “I got my papers early afternoon. If I’d hopped on a train right then, I could’ve gotten upstate in time to see my sister one more time. But instead I wanted to go out with Steve and a couple of girls.”

“It’s important to say goodbye to your friends too.” she offered, trying to make him feel better. He gave a dry laugh, shaking his head.

“Yea, well, Steve ended up ditching to try and enlist  _ again _ , so it kinda took the wind out of my sails.” he explained. That had stung for a long time, but he got over it around the time he landed over on this side of the Atlantic. It was hard to say goodbye, especially when the person was living the life you thought you wanted. 

“And the girls?” she said, and he looked at her out of the corner of his eye to find her grinning.

“That’s another question.” he replied. He was certainly not going to tell her that while one girl had left at a decent hour, the brunette had stayed at his apartment quite a bit later. “And a gentleman does not kiss and tell.” It was a cheap shot, he knew. But it was worth it for the brief look of jealousy on her face at the thought. She tried to school her face back to neutral but didn’t quite succeed, which only served to amuse him further. She didn’t care for the grin on his face then.

“Alright, Romeo, whatever you say.” she said, if only to have the last word. The statement had a little more bite than she meant for it to, but he laughed it off. He very rarely felt like he won their little moments like this, and he relished in the victory. 

“Your turn. Truth or truth?” he said, continuing on with the game. She hummed, suspicious of his transition but letting it slide.

“Truth.” she said, steeling herself.

“Why did you leave Hemmingsburg?” he asked immediately. She groaned, closing her eyes for a moment before resigning herself. She’d accepted the game, after all. She couldn’t punk out now. 

“Because everyone wanted me to get married, and I had just turned eighteen and...did not want to do that.” she said. She spoke in a way that he knew she wasn’t giving him the whole story.

“So you just split, day after your birthday?” he tried to lead her to divulge whatever she was hiding. Even in the low light, he could tell she was blushing.

“Day after that.” she said shortly. “Because the day after my birthday is when George decided to propose.”

“Holy shit!” Bucky couldn’t help but exclaim, though if he was honest the thought of someone getting down on one knee and presenting a ring to her made the jealousy bug bite his ass as well. Turnaround is fair play, he supposed. “You didn’t tell me you’d been  _ engaged _ , Doc.”

“I wasn’t engaged! I was just proposed to!” she said quickly, clearly not enjoying this walk down memory lane. “I left the ring on the nightstand and went to enlist in the Navy the next day.”

“Hell of a way to turn a guy down.” he said, laughing and pretending he wasn’t jealous that someone had bought her a ring before he’d had a chance to.

“Oh, I said no from the beginning. He asked me to sleep on it.” she said, very matter-of-fact. “I did, and I stood by my decision.”

“How did you end up in the Army, if you started in the Navy?” he continued, wincing and groaning as he realized his mistake. Lu smiled then, happy to have the upper hand.

“That’s another question.” she teased. “It’s your turn to pick between Truth or Truth.”

“He’s gonna pick fuckin’ truth! Jesus!” Mullens yelled, quieting the cages within hearing distance. They all looked at him oddly - first, for raising his voice, and second because he was raising it at a woman. Normally the way men spoke to her tended to rub Lu the wrong way, but every once in a while she used it to her advantage. 

“Leave it, Mullens.” Bucky snapped over his shoulder. He then turned back to Lu with a pleasant smile. “I’ll go with truth.” he said sweetly, really layering it on just to annoy Mullens further. 

“What’s the first thing you wanna do when we get out of here?” she asked, her voice a bit quieter. He could barely keep his thoughts from spilling out -  _ hold you, kiss you, run away with you.  _ Really, he was just glad that she was being positive. He’d promised her they’d escape, now he just had to live up to it.

“Eat.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but he chose to keep the gutter thoughts to himself. “Eat a huge plate of whatever they’ve got, but preferably pasta and meat and bread and enough wine to knock me on my ass for a week.”

“Whiskey would hit harder and faster.” she offered her opinion, and he gracefully shook it off. 

“True, but I want to savor my downward descent into a drunken mess. I don’t even care about the hangover right now.” he sighed wistfully, thinking of days gone by. For just a moment, he wasn’t there in a Nazi dungeon. He was back in New York, maybe at the Stork Club. And Lu was right there with him. 

“Good plan.” she replied. The conversation lulled for just a moment, and in their silence they heard the men in the other cages moaning or crying softly. There was no such thing as  _ manly _ here; they were all suffering, and doing their best just to survive.

“Truth or truth?” he murmured, his voice barely reaching her ears. 

“Can I take a dare?” 

“That’s not the name of the game.”

“Fine. Truth.”

“What made you switch from Navy to Army?” Immediately he knew it was not a good question to ask. She’d been hoping, praying, that he’d forget. She already relived it too often in her nightmares. “Wait, no, never mind. What - um -”

“It’s fine.” she said quietly, her voice tight. She wasn’t looking at him; instead, she’d pulled her knees closer, tucking her arms close as if she was trying to protect herself. She took a few steadying breaths, and when she spoke again her voice was even, though her face still gave away her strain. “I was there. In Hawaii.”

“At Pearl?” he asked, incredulous. He’d had an inkling, but never followed up on it. Now it made sense that she was terrified of planes and small spaces, but that gunfire and tanks didn’t faze her one bit. But he’d never dreamed that she’d been at Pearl Harbor. 

“Yea. It was where I was training.” she said. He couldn’t tell if she wanted to say more, or if she was simply trying to get through whatever was in her head at that moment. “After the seventh, I requested a transfer. I didn’t care if I got sent to the front lines over here, I just wanted to be as far from the water and Japan as possible.” 

“That’s terrible, Doc.” Bucky breathed, unsure of what else to say. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged, not looking at him. “Not your fault.” she said automatically. Now he could see why she hid the fact of Pearl from people: she didn’t want the pity. She never meant to be part of a historical event - even if she actively enlisted, she’d been dragged into this war, just like him. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re still here.” he said, reaching through the bars to rest a hand on her shoulder. She leaned her cheek against it; she didn’t say anything, but he thought he could feel a bit of moisture coming from her eyes. They sat like that for a long time, finally giving Mullens some blessed silence. 

The door to the dungeon (it was the best word for their predicament) opened, and most of the men quieted and looked to it. They hadn’t seen the hazmats or Dr. Becker since they’d been moved over here, and at this point they really just expected the guy with the bag of food. But today, it was more soldiers with handcuffs, their electric batons already out and crackling. Everyone was silent then, holding their breath as they waited to see who would be the first to be pulled. 

Lu’s heart was in her throat as they approached her and Mullens’ cage. She immediately scrambled to the back corner, as if that would help her, and held onto the bars there. Mullens followed her lead, but the soldiers didn’t seem surprised. If anything, they seemed put out. The key sank into the lock with a deafening noise; the hinges probably squeaked loudly, but she couldn’t hear it over the sound of the blood rushing in her ears. Bucky put his arm through the bars, wrapping it around her in an attempt to keep her there.

“ _ Leave her alone! _ ” he said over and over in German. “ _ No! Leave her! _ ”

The men didn’t listen. They roughly pulled his arm away and shocked him through the bars. He willed himself to stay conscious this time, trying to push through his spasming muscles and ignoring the heart palpitations as he crawled towards the bars again. Lu screeched and kicked and scratched at the soldiers, but they didn’t care. She was smaller, and malnourished, and easily bested. Mullens was fighting back too, but had about as much success as she did. Not that it mattered in the end. The soldiers pulled out syringes and sunk them into whatever skin they could find, and by the time it was empty both Lu and Mullens were unconscious. 

“No! No!” Bucky yelled, angry that once again he wasn’t able to protect her. Part of him knew it was unrealistic, that there was no way for him alone to prevent what was happening. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch them drag Lu’s unconscious body back to the elevator.

**December 7, 1941**

**Honolulu, Hawaii**

The sun rose early in Hawaii, earlier than it ever did in Virginia or any of the states she’d visited in between. Lu found she liked it, cause it made the night shift that much shorter and made her feel like the day somehow lasted longer. And when the sun was rising over the beautiful beaches with shirtless soldiers jogging for early morning training instead of the endless acres of corn fields, that made the day a little better too.

“Lucy? Hellooo, Lucy.” Daphne, the other nurse on the unit floor that morning, waved her hand in front of Lu’s face. She snapped back to herself, dropping her daydream about the breakfast she was going to enjoy on the front porch of the nurses’ house before a long sleep. 

“Sorry Daph, I was taking one of those open-eyed naps you’re always on about.” Lu said. She still had a bit of a twang in her voice, some of her ‘Southern Belle’ accent stubbornly holding on. 

“Well you better wake up, sleepyhead. The General’s wife’s water just broke.” she said with a grin. That  _ definitely _ got Lu to sit up at attention, her eyes wide.

“Already? But she’s not due for another two weeks.” she said, getting up and following Daphne back to the linens room. The barracks were not far from the hospital - the lady was probably going to get here any minute and the room needed to be ready. They wiped down all the surfaces with bleach rags then set to making the bed, getting a clean gown and socks ready. They heard a commotion in the hall and started working faster; they could hear the low timbre of the general, and the high, frantic voice of the intake coordinator, her heels clacking as she tried to keep up with her short steps. Daphne poked her head out the door.

“In here please!” she said, cool as a cucumber. This was not her first rodeo; she was about five years older than Lu, and had been working labor and delivery on the base since she joined at nineteen. When Lu showed up the first day, fresh faced and barely old enough for the enlistment papers, she’d immediately taken to her and made sure she was trained correctly. 

The orderly wheeled in the General’s wife, looking more afraid of the big man next to him than the woman in labor that he was transporting. The General looked right at Daphne, his gaze firm and unyielding and entirely terrifying to Lu’s untrained eye. But Daphne didn’t seem scared at all.

“You’ll be the ones taking care of her?” he asked. His voice was so deep Lu thought she could feel it reverberate in her chest. Her voice didn’t seem to want to work, so instead she just nodded while Daphne took the reins. 

“She’s in good hands, General. Now, you get yourself a cup of coffee and station yourself in the waiting room. We’ve got it from here.” she said with a smile, holding a hand out and helping the woman to her feet. She was young, younger than Lu thought she would be, and readily accepted the assistance. The General, for what it was worth, looked very concerned and didn’t actually move from the doorway, looking pained as his wife grimaced with every movement. Lu helped her change behind a partition before she got her settled on the bed, resting a hand on her lower abdomen to see if she could feel a contraction. Daphne shooed the General away. “Go on, we’ll come get you when you have a healthy new baby.”

“What’s your name?” Lu asked the woman quietly. She felt as her muscles tensed and a contraction started; Lu looked at her watch, starting the time whenever she relaxed again.

“Emily.” she said with a gasp. The General gave her one last look and she gave him as encouraging a smile as she could muster before he finally heeded Daphne and left. 

“Trust me, it’s going to be much easier if it’s just us girls.” Lu said with a smile, still keeping her eye on the watch. “Men like to think they’re tough, but there’s a reason we’re supposed to handle all this.”

“You should have seen when my water broke. I thought  _ he _ was going to be the one to faint.” Emily said with a breathy laugh. She shifted on the bed, her discomfort evident. Even if she was two weeks early, she was still immensely pregnant, and Lu knew that there was no way she was going to find a comfortable position until the baby was delivered and clean up was done. 

“And that’s why you have us.” Daphne said, pulling on some gloves and gently laying her hands on Emily’s knees. “Open up, doll. We gotta check how dilated you are.” she said. Emily nodded and did as she was asked; she knew what was coming, and what to expect, even if this was her first child. She let out a whine as another contraction hit, and Lu stopped the counting, holding her hand to get her through it.

“Three minutes.” she said to Daphne, whose eyebrows rose in response. She turned to Emily with a smile.

“This little one is coming quick. Three minutes apart and eight centimeters dilated? This one is gonna be a sprint, not a marathon.” she said, her voice sounding like she was telling the woman the best news ever. Emily let out a breath and nodded, shifting up in the bed. Lu unlatched the mechanism, allowing the head of the bed to come up a bit and let her rest in a better position. 

“But the baby’s okay, right? Everything’s fine?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly from the pain and the anxiety. Sweat was starting to bead along her forehead, and her hands gripped the side rails. Daphne smiled sweetly and nodded.

“Based on what I see, you have nothing to worry about.” she said, sending a wink towards Lu. Lu also took a deep breath, knowing now that Daphne was actually being truthful. 

It was a flurry of activity after that, preparing the station to clean the baby and all the instruments they would need to sever the umbilical cord and deliver the placenta. Emily did her part, taking measured breaths and not bothering to hide when another contraction hit. They were getting closer and closer together now, which meant that it was nearly time. The nurses could feel the shift in the air and the way Emily sat when they reached the point of no return, and they moved to help things along.

“Alright, doll.” Daphne said with a smile. “You ready to be a mother?”

“As ready as I’m going to be.” Emily admitted, trying to seem brave. Daphne’s smile only grew, and she gestured for Lu to move to the foot of the bed.

“Alright. Lucy here’s gonna catch your baby, and I’m gonna be right here with you, okay?” she said, moving to grip her hand. Lu went into business mode, setting the sheets just the way she liked them and putting Emily’s feet in the right places.

“Okay.” Emily said, gasping as another contraction hit. Lu gave her an encouraging smile over the swell of her belly.

“You’re gonna do great, darlin’.” she said. So far, everything was going smoothly. “Now, when the next one hits, it’s time to push, okay?”

“Yea, yea okay.” she said. Her hair was sticking to her face now, but her fear was starting to wane. Pain and excitement usually overwhelmed those at this point. Lu saw as her abdomen quivered, her muscles starting to tense.

“Here we go!” she sang, making sure Emily kept her knees apart. She pushed without any cuing, following her body’s cues. Daphne reminded her to breathe, holding her hand and letting her squeeze it. As the contraction ended, Lu could see the head of the baby. “We’re crowning!” she added, still keeping the mood upbeat and positive. Emily nodded, taking a few quick breaths before pushing again.

A deep boom sounded from outside, making the room go quiet. Lu looked to Daphne, who shook her head. It was probably just an exhibit, or a training drill. But then another boom came, and then another, shaking the walls of the hospital. “The shoulders are out!” she said, trying to focus herself and the woman in front of her.

Then, the hospital blew up.

Concrete and wood went flying following a catastrophic crash, throwing the walls inwards towards them. It was so fast that Lu didn’t have time to see anything or react, and could only let the blast knock her to the ground. The world went dark, and when it finally started to lighten, Lu wondered if she was dead. She didn’t think that she’d end up in Heaven, but if she wasn’t there, then what was this bright light? But also...what was with the loud sounds of crying?

She came back to herself then. The light was sunlight, blinding her from the massive space where the wall used to be. She pushed herself up, the world spinning as she did so, and tried to survey the damage. Her stomach rolled as she saw Emily, her upper half covered and crushed by concrete. Her baby, mercifully, seemed to have been hit with nothing but dust as it settled. She made herself get up; any dust in the baby’s new lungs could be disastrous, and she needed to cover the mouth and nose. She could barely breathe herself, but she needed to save the little one. A strip of sheet became a baby’s face covering, and with a noise that Lu could never forget she pulled the baby from her place in the womb. She was full on crying now, demanding that the world take notice of her.

“What...what’s going on?” Lu asked, looking around the room. The surgical instruments they needed to cut the cord were gone, lost in the rubble. “Daphne? Daph, there’s no - how do I -” she looked around the room, then her blood went cold as she saw her friend. Daphne was still breathing and conscious, but red was appearing on her white uniform at an alarming rate. She gave Lu a bloody smile.

“You saved the baby. Good job.” she said weakly, coughing a bit as she tried to speak.

“Stay - stay right there. I’ll just take her to the nursery and come back to you - but the cord -” Lu was stammering, trying to organize her thoughts. The sounds of planes reached her ears, and she couldn’t stop herself from screaming as more booms and shots echoed from other parts of the harbor. The baby screamed with her, but Daphne did not.

“Listen.” Daphne said, getting her attention as the silence descended again. 

“Don’t talk, you need to save your strength-” Lu tried to tell her, making her shaking hands clean the baby. Everything was wrong. She could hear the sirens now; the base was under attack. Thanks to the opening in the wall, she could see the planes flying over, the red circles under their wings staring at her from the sky. 

“Listen!” she said sharply, making Lu stop what she was doing and look back down at her. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a little pocket knife that was surprisingly clean given the situation. “Cut the cord. Take her to the nursery. Then you need to go outside and help.”

“But you-”

“I’m not long for this world. We both know that.” she said. She was getting paler as she spoke, and Lu found herself nodding. It was a fact, and nurses always clung to the facts. “Save the baby, then save as many as you can.”

Lu knew one day she would have a breakdown about this. But Daphne was right - she had a job to do. She took the knife, wiping it as best she could before cutting the cord and bundling the baby girl. She went to hand the knife back to Daphne, not thinking. She gave a gurgling laugh. “Keep it, I think you’ll have better use of it.” she said. Lu paused, then put it into her own pocket. 

“Thank you.” she said. She didn’t mean for the knife; she meant for the help, the mentorship, the  _ friendship _ . Lu hadn’t really had a best friend before this, and it would be a long time before she had another one. “For everything.”

“Go get ‘em, kid. They need you.” Daphne said, her lungs filling more and more with blood. Lu knew she needed to move, needed to follow the sounds of screaming and help with those injured in the attack. But she stayed a few moments longer, holding Daphne’s hand as she passed from this world to the next. The baby was quiet now, nestled in her dusty blankets, and for a moment Lu was taken aback by how closely death and life could pass each other. 

She gently laid down Daphne’s limp hand and got up, squaring her shoulders and steeling herself. She wanted to lay down and cry, but she couldn’t, because Daphne wouldn’t. Daphne would be better for this situation, but she wasn’t here anymore. Lu looked down at the little baby, so pretty and pristine in the chaos. 

Daphne wasn’t here, but Lu was. And she had work to do. 


	24. Zero - October 17, 2014

**Chapter 24: Zero**

**October 17, 2014**

It was a cool and clear night, making Summer’s watch even easier than usual, though she was no less militant. Winter was asleep on the pallet, his metal arm resting stretched out to the side she normally slept on, as if he were reaching for her. If she had a mind to, she could just go lay there next to him. He’d probably wrap his arm around her, protecting her back from any threats from the window. Yes, that would be the reasoning. His skin would be warm, helping to rid her of some of the chill that never seemed to leave. Though temperatures were dropping, he slept shirtless, the cold night air feeling good to him. She couldn’t help but trace the lines of his chest and abdomen with her eyes, remembering how they felt under her fingers and lips. 

Summer chided herself for being distracted. Ever since that night - the first time they’d taken a step out of their comfort zone and into vulnerability - it was harder for her to keep her mind on her mission. It felt like her brain was muddled as feelings from the past started to swirl with her current pieced-together state. She’d always worked to protect Winter and support him, but it was beyond protocol at this point. The need to care for him was so deeply ingrained in her that it made her believe that, whenever the scientists injected her with the things that enhanced her, they also enhanced the connection between them. She wasn’t sure if Winter felt the same way. She hoped he did. 

Something flashed in the distance, making all thoughts about  _ feelings _ and  _ emotions _ and  _ sex _ disappear. That was not the light of a passing car, or a flashlight from local teenagers committing some sort of mischief. It wasn’t an animal, or trash blowing in the wind. No, she knew the flash of a sniper sight when she saw one. 

“Winter.” she whispered sharply. She heard as his breath changed and he woke immediately, then pushed himself up. She didn’t bother looking back at him and instead brought her own sight to her eye, slowly scanning the area where she saw the glint of the glass. 

“Threat level?” he asked, getting up from the pallet. She heard him moving around, pulling his shirt on and gathering the weapons he’d laid beside him so as to not impede his rest. Finally she was able to isolate the relative area where she saw the light, approximately four hundred yards away.

“Three.” she replied, the  _ out of ten _ part understood. “Likely one to two enemies. Possible sniper involvement.”

“Check. I’ll pack up here and draw the second one.” he said, easily slipping back into the commander role even if they were equals now. But he wasn’t bossing her, he was simply playing to their strengths. She was always better at stealth and tracking, and therefore would be better at apprehending the hidden opponent. She nodded, pulling her eyes away from the sight and getting up. Her muscles weren’t tight nor were her joints stiff; adrenaline pushed her body into reactive mode instantly. Her footsteps were nearly silent as she went downstairs and out the back door of the villa, her boots making it easy to traverse the rocky terrain of the surrounding mountains. If she took the proper path - the one that appeared blue in her mind map of the area - then she would be able to sneak up on the marksman. The likelihood that he was there for caution and backup was high, so she figured that he would not move once she removed herself from the window. The second enemy was probably waiting to find either one of them on their own. It’s what she would have done in the same situation: separate the marks, take them down one at a time. Something pulled in her chest, a feeling she identified as  _ worry _ , but she quickly shut it down. Winter could take down any threat that came their way. 

She slowed down as she neared the estimated area of the watcher, making sure her footsteps were as quiet as possible since the sounds of nighttime wildlife could only mask her advancement so much. She balanced between two rocks and ducked down, listening for the tell tale signs of a sniper. But there was no shifting, no breathing, no  _ tap-tap-tap  _ as someone kept their trigger finger warm while waiting to use it. She was confused for a moment; she knew she’d seen the flash here, knew that a marksman would not be able to dismantle his setup and move in the time it had taken her to track him down, especially without any noise. Something wasn’t right. She slung her rifle around to her back, instead choosing a knife from her belt. This was going to be close range combat - if there was any combat at all.

It wasn’t easy to keep her climb up the rock quiet with a weapon in her hand, but it was not the most difficult thing she’d ever done. People tended to keep their attention at eye level, often forgetting to check areas below them or above them. More than likely, Summer was smaller than whoever was waiting for her. The strength that the serum gave her certainly helped with fights with people too big for her, but nothing could beat the element of surprise. The moon was bright as she crested the rock, and she moved just enough to spot the setup and the sniper. 

Except there was no sniper. And there was no setup. There was just a sight resting on top of a stone, pointed back towards the villa. It had all been a ruse to separate them, as she suspected. But now she knew there was only one enemy to deal with. 

Back at the villa, Winter quickly folded and rolled the few things they had for bedding, stuffing them in their packs. He donned his entire arsenal; he trusted Summer’s assessment of the threat, but one could never be too cautious when on the run from a seedy underground organization. He put Summer’s book in her bag and turned to go downstairs when he heard the sound of a boot scraping the edge of the roof. He did an about-face and pulled a pistol from its home at his waist, his aim true as someone swung off the roof and onto the balcony.

“Whoa there, big guy.” the person said, holding up their hands to show they didn’t have a weapon. It was a woman, smaller and slighter than Summer. Her hair was tucked into a beanie, but a few dark wisps were escaping, framing a heart-shaped face. She was pretty, Winter realized, though the thought was nothing more than that. More importantly, he didn’t recognize her. Whether that was good or bad remained to be seen. 

“Tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you.” he said, though his muscles ached with the desire to pull the trigger and run. She wasn’t with Hydra, he could tell that by her uniform. Hydra preferred black and kevlar, and often used rough materials that could withstand most any weather. But this woman wore a pixelated pattern of black and grey and blue, ideal for camouflage in low-light, non-urban areas. 

“You two were really hard to track down, you know that, right?” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, and Winter felt something he hadn’t experienced in a long time - vague annoyance. He changed his grip slightly on the pistol, making sure his threat was evident.

“You have three seconds.” he said. It was three more seconds than people sneaking up on him usually got, and he tended to count fast.

“I can get you past the borders.” she said quickly, making his hand falter. It was strange enough that she found them, but now she was offering to help them? The deeply ingrained training still told him to shoot her, that they were compromised and needed to tie off loose ends before retreating. But he didn’t want to be a killer, not if he didn’t have to be.

“Lie.” he challenged, moving closer. It was obvious at this point that the pistol was pointed right at her forehead. He didn’t want to kill her, but he couldn’t afford a mistake. She held her ground, her hands still up in the air as she gazed at him with an expression that almost seemed exasperated.

“Look, I get it, you’re on the run. You don’t know who to trust. Been there, done that.” she said, rolling her eyes and gesturing slightly. “I’ll explain everything when your counterpart gets back from checking my little diversion. Which, by my estimation, should be in-”

Summer appeared over the railing, jumping onto the balcony and pulling the woman to her chest, her knife at her throat. “Wait!” Winter said, barely in time. A thin trail of blood trickled from where the knife had nicked her throat, but the woman made a good show of being brave.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.” Summer said harshly, the knife staying exactly where it was. The woman sighed, looking back to Winter. 

“See? This is why I wanted to wait. I hate having to tell the same story twice.” she said, as if there was no immediate danger in her future. Summer and Winter didn’t move, waiting for her to continue. “As I was explaining to him, I can get you two past the borders.”

“Lie.” Summer said, sinking the knife in again.

“Wait wait wait!” the woman said, and with a look from Winter she stayed her hand. The woman let out a frustrated huff. “Do you two like, share a brain or something? Is that why you’re so good at working together? That would explain-”

“The point.” Winter interrupted, his voice low and deadly calm. The woman gestured to both of them.

“It’s a little easier to explain if I don’t have multiple ways to die happening all at once.” she said. Summer looked to Winter again, and he made a small gesture with his head. She kept her hand and knife where it was, but used her other one to pat the woman down, tossing out any weapons that she found. It was an impressive amount for such a small person, Summer could give her that. Once her pockets were empty Summer shoved her towards the wall, hiding her from outside view. Signs pointed to her working alone, but they were not going to take the chance. Summer kicked the doors to the balcony closed.

“Talk.” Winter said, lowering his pistol but not holstering it. The woman straightened her beanie and wiped the blood from her neck, making a disgusted face as she wiped it on her pants, staining the blue and grey portions of it a dark maroon. 

“Such a warm welcome.” she muttered to herself. Summer sheathed her knife but pulled out her own pistol, chambering a round just to make a point. The woman held up her hands again. “Okay, okay I get it. Listen, you guys should know that like,  _ everyone _ is looking for you. Hydra is offering immunity to the first person to bring you in alive.” she explained. Immediately Summer and Winter aimed their pistols at her again. “Wait! Just let me finish explaining, and if you still wanna kill me after that, then go for it.”

“ _ It could be a trap _ .” Summer said in Russian, the first language her tongue chose besides English.

“ _ It probably is _ .” Winter agreed in kind. The woman actually stomped her foot like a child.

“ _ It’s not _ .” she said, also in Russian before switching back to English. “Do you think I wanna deal with anyone else while tracking you two down? No. It would’ve just slowed me down.”

Something about that felt familiar, but Summer couldn’t place it. Now was not the time anyway. “Talk.” she said, realizing too late that that was what Winter had said earlier.

“Do you just...copy everything he says? They said Hydra was working on a way to telepathically link all their super soldiers but I didn’t think it was real. They’d need that girl in New York-” Winter took a step closer to her, his arm starting to raise. “Right! Right, sorry. The point. The long and the short of it is, I have a mission for you two. And if you help me, then I’ll help you get across the borders on the black map.”

“You’re Nought.” Winter realized. There were multiple circles that ran in the shadows, Hydra being the biggest one and the most feared. But they’d formed treaties with some of the others. Likely they planned to eventually betray them in the future, but neither Winter nor Summer knew of any immediate plans. The woman struck a pose. 

“Nought is just who I work for. You can call me Cero.” she said with a smile.

“Zero.” Summer deadpanned. Sure, the word was in Spanish, but it was still zero.

“I know. I could’ve gotten a cool one like Neoni or Miden, but I got stuck with Cero.” she said, as if they were supposed to lament her codename with her. “It’s not so bad though. Easy to spell. Easy to say. Anyways, what I’m trying to say is, I figure we can get a little quid pro quo action going on here. You help me, I help you, we all end up staying alive for another day in this hellscape.”

“Why do you need our help?” Winter asked. The woman gave no signs that she was lying, but he’d known women that could do that. Hell, he’d trained most of them. 

“And why do you want to help us?” Summer added. This seemed wrong, entirely wrong. And yet, something kept them from pulling the trigger. Cero took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a second as if she were trying to keep herself from snapping at a child.

“I get it. You guys have a lot of questions. But I was kind of hoping we could pitter patter out of here and get on the road cause if I was able to find you, then there probably aren’t many people far behind. So we gotta go.” she said, gesturing towards the front of the villa. Summer and Winter looked at each other; leaving right now did not seem ideal, but Cero also had a point. They were experts at disappearing, but if the whole underworld was looking for them then they might have to change plans. “I get it. You’ve got a sweet set up here. Nice kitchen, super romantic lighting at night…” she paused, waiting for them to be embarrassed at her insinuation. They were not. “But you gotta move on.”

“How did you find us?” Summer asked. She did not care about Cero’s impatience, she was going to ask as many questions as she wanted. They’d had enough commanding officers - they were the ones in control now, and they were not going to relinquish that control to her easily. If she got too frustrated, tried to make a move, well then they could just shoot her.

“Not the questions you need to be asking right now!” she exclaimed. They didn’t flinch at her outburst, nor move in the direction she wanted. They waited in silence, which was clearly the best way to get the answers from her that they wanted. “Ugh, fine. You two are so annoying, I don’t know why Hydra wants you back alive.” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. When she spoke again, it was in a condescending tone. “I hacked through the databases between Hydra and SHIELD and the US government to find out about your previous life, figuring you would end up somewhere from that. I didn’t know you guys were so old though, you look great.”

“There’s records.” Summer said to Winter. They’d gotten their records from Hydra, but there were more out there, with more information about them and their past. He nodded, raising his pistol up towards Cero again.

“Where are these records?” he asked. His voice was still steady; this was the Winter she knew, not the man that he was slowly becoming.

“I got them all right here” she said, patting a pocket on her shirt, “-and then scrubbed them clean. I wasn’t about to let someone else make the same discovery I did. I’m very competitive like that.”

“Give them to us.” he said, holding his hand out. 

“You’re serious right now? That’s your most pressing concern?” she said, tilting her head to the side. 

“Now.” he said. She grumbled something rude that she did not realize they could hear, slowly reaching into her pocket with two fingers to pull out a flash drive. She tossed it to him and he easily caught it in his metal hand, analyzing it for just enough time to determine it wasn’t a tracker or explosive before putting it into his own pocket.

“Are you happy now? Can we go?” she asked. They still didn’t move. “Seriously. It’s time for you two lovebirds to leave the nest.”

“Where?” Winter said. Cero was clearly getting tired of their questions, but allowed them for the sake of her mission - at least for right now.

“Hope you packed your toga, cause we gotta go to Thessaloniki.” she said with a grin.

“Togas are from Rome, not Greece.” Summer pointed out. 

“Whatever! Can we just -?” she gestured wildly at the window, and neither Summer nor Winter could deny that her arrival did increase the sense of impending doom. They shared a long look that probably didn’t help Cero’s belief of a telepathic connection before finally turning back to her.

“I’ll drive.” Summer said. Cero looked relieved, her posture relaxing and her hands dropping.

“Fucking finally. Geeze, I didn’t think it would be so hard to convince two soldiers to go on a mission.” she said. Summer reached into her pack, pulling out a zip tie and tossing it towards her. She watched it fall on the floor in front of her. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Tie your wrists.” Summer ordered. She thought it was obvious, but perhaps Cero was not as smart as she thought, even if she was able to find them. “And we’re not soldiers. Not anymore.”

“I thought we just discussed how we’re on the same team here? Enemy of my enemy is my friend and all?” she said, grabbing the zip tie roughly and huffing loudly to express her displeasure. “And you’re gonna be soldiers one more time, or else I’m not gonna be able to help you out.”

Winter moved first, taking three long steps so that the muzzle of his pistol was flush against her forehead. She stopped what she was doing, her eyes shining as she stared unblinkingly at him. “We,” he said, his voice icy cold, “are not soldiers.”

“Fine. What would you like me to call you? Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum?” she asked. Winter slowly reached to the zip tie, tightening it around her wrists with a rough pull.

“Call us what you want. But you will not call us  _ soldat _ .” he spat. Anger burned in Summer as he said the word; she could feel in her bones how it was thrown her way during their time in captivity.  _ Soldat _ was not a person.  _ Soldat _ was a weapon, an asset. And they were more than that now.

“Got it. Fuck, you guys are sensitive.” she said, though a hitch in her breath and a skip in her heartbeat gave away her fear. Winter put some space between them and lowered his pistol, taking one more glance at Summer.

“I’ll drive.” she reminded them, eyeing Cero one more time. The woman gave her a sarcastic smile, clearly not happy with the turn of events. But she didn’t protest. Instead, she just followed them down the stairs, waited while Winter packed up the rest of their things, and even willingly got in the back seat of the tiny car, putting her in close quarters with the assassin. 

“Head east, driver.” she said in some sort of American accent that sounded familiar, though Summer couldn’t place it. For some reason, it made her think of people in grayscale. Winter settled into the car, looking at her through the rearview mirror. His pistol was still out, just in case Cero had a trick up her sleeve. Summer nodded at him and turned the car on, pulling out of the drive and starting the slow descent back to the road. Normally, she would continue forward without a thought, but this time she found herself glancing back at the villa, a stone settling in her stomach as it disappeared from view.

_ Longing _ , she realized. She was going to miss this place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope y'all like this addition! also i keep forgetting to tell y'all that i'm on tumblr under the username whindsor, if you're into that sort of thing.
> 
> i hope everyone is staying safe during this crazy time!


	25. Surge pt 2 - October 25, 1943

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Attempted assault this chapter. Nothing graphic.

**Chapter 25: Surge Pt. 2**

**October 25, 1943**

Bucky was on his feet as soon as the door opened, gripping the bars and trying to see if there was someone on the cart, or if it was just food. Two bodies laid limply on the surface, one pale, slender arm hanging over the end and bouncing as the wheels rolled over the uneven surface. The soldiers didn’t take care to make the ride smooth, and when they unlocked the cage they didn’t respect the unconscious people, tossing them in like sacks of potatoes. He cried out as Lu’s head bounced against the floor before her body twisted with momentum, leaving her in an uncomfortable looking position. Mullens didn’t fare any better, his landing even rougher than Lu’s and his ending posture even more contorted. He was going to be sore when he woke up. 

Bucky reached through the bars until they were pinching his shoulders, his hand flailing as he tried to grab Lu’s pant leg. He couldn’t protect her from the men in the uniforms, but he could at least put her in a normal position for when she regained consciousness. He finally grasped the cloth of her pants and, once he was sure of his hold, he leaned back to pull her over. 

“Jesus you’re dense, Doc.” he muttered, grunting with the effort as he pulled the dead weight of her. He reached through the bars again, this time grabbing her pocket. He used his legs at the base of the bars to pull this time, which only served to send him flopping onto his back when the material tore.

“Oh, fuck a duck.” he groaned as the wind was knocked out of him. The malnourishment and dehydration were certainly catching up to him, but he wasn’t about to let that stop him. He pushed himself back up; her legs were properly positioned now, but her torso was still turned. 

“Sorry about this.” he continued the one sided conversation, sliding his fingers just past her waistband so he had something more stable than a pocket to hold onto. This time he was actually successful in getting her closer to the bars, close enough that he could reach the top of her.

“Ope, sorry about that.” he muttered as his hand accidentally grazed her chest. The back of his neck burned with chagrin, even if Lu was unconscious and no one around noticed the slip up. He finally got her settled on her back in somewhat of a good position, hoping that would help when she woke up. “Actually, glad you were knocked out for that. Even if it wasn’t on purpose you’d probably slap the back of my head like Ma did when I was acting up.” he said, letting out a huff as he settled against the bars. He shouldn’t be as tired as he was from the little exertion, but they’d been in captivity for a fat minute now and it wasn’t doing his strength any favors. He sat there for a long time, ignoring the numbness in his ass and the pressure in his back. If anything, it helped him stay awake while he waited, though the arrival of all the other prisoners taking their turn on the carts did that too. 

He didn’t know if it was minutes or hours later when Lu and Mullens both stirred, their breaths hitching as consciousness and then pain came to them. Bucky moved as quickly as he could, reaching between the bars to take her hand and letting out a breath of relief as she squeezed his fingers back. From the back of the cage Mullens let out a low moan that grew louder, his chest heaving and shaking as he tried to tolerate the agony. Lu wasn’t much better, her face turning red as she struggled. Her eyes flew open, searching wildly before settling on Bucky. She squeezed his hand tighter; it hurt, but he wasn’t going to ask her to stop.

“Hey, hey you’re okay.” he said, as soothing as he could. His other hand shook as he reached through, trying to smooth her hair in a comforting gesture. It’s what his mom always did when his sister didn’t feel well.

“It hurts.” she gasped, leaning into his touch. Tears actually leaked out of her eyes, and he had a feeling that it wasn’t due to how much she was hurting. It was the pain, and the imprisonment, and the torture, and the fact that there currently wasn’t a viable option for escape. “Fuck, Barnes, it really hurts.”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry.” he said, his throat thick and his chest aching. It killed him, seeing her like this and knowing that not only could he not help her, he couldn’t protect her from it happening again. She gripped his hand so tightly he actually thought his bones might bruise, but he didn’t move. She shook her head, grimacing with the movement.

“No, no it’s different this time.” she said, pausing to let out a grunt of pain. Behind her, Mullens had curled himself into a ball, alternating between gagging and sobbing as his body tried to figure out how to handle the pain. The hazmats with the cart returned, bringing the last of the bodies and tossing them back into their cages. Bucky noticed that not all the cages had occupants by the end of it. “They gave us something different.” 

“Sh, save your strength. Rest up. You’re gonna be okay.” he said. He’d seen her saw off legs and dig shrapnel and bullets out of muscles. He’d heard how she had to make decisions on whether or not it was worth it to try treatment, or to give a soldier something to make him comfortable until he passed. He’d seen her go days with barely any rest, her body exhausted as she kept working to heal. But now he knew that this was her lowest point. Her life was perched at the tip of a knife - she could fight to stay alive, or she could succumb to the darkness. He wouldn’t let her choose the second. 

“It’s fucked up. It’s so fucked up.” she said, still trying to catch her breath. Her language was surprising, but not unwarranted. She started coughing and retched, but her empty stomach had nothing to give up.

“I know.” he said. He’d been wrong when he said he knew it hurt, but this time he knew he was right. He couldn’t get her words out of his head,  _ they gave us something new _ . The first injection had been bad enough, but clearly the second one was worse. In the back of his mind he realized that he would probably be in the second wave for it, that more than likely the hazmats would come for him the next time they turned the lights on. He continued stroking her hair, ignoring how his hand was still shaking as he did so. Dehydration, he told himself. Not fear. 

He held her hand until the pain wore her out, Mullens falling unconscious just a few minutes after her despite the screams of the other men as they awoke. Lu's skin was pale but what he could touch felt feverish, and even if he knew that he should also sleep so he’d be rested when she woke again, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. He tried to hum the song that the lady who lived above him in Brooklyn used to sing when her baby was upset; he didn’t know the words in Hebrew or English, but he knew the tune, and hoped that would be enough. The screams were louder now, accompanied by the sounds of crying and vomiting, but luckily Lu slept on. Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, the lights turned off.

At first, the plunge into darkness turned everyone feral. There were sounds of people hitting the bars, screaming to be let out and promising varying degrees of evisceration to the Nazis holding them. This made the ones that had just returned from the chairs even more agitated, their senses overloaded with the false bravado spouting from the ones who hadn’t had their turn yet. Bucky could see past the show of courage for what it really was - unimaginable fear that if they managed to survive the injections, they would have to deal with the suffering. He felt that fear himself, especially seeing the ramifications of the injection so up close, but he didn’t let himself succumb to it. They hadn’t come for him yet, and until then, he had to watch out for his girl.

He didn’t know how long the riot lasted before fatigue overwhelmed them like a wave, sending them all crashing to the floors of their cages one by one. It was never silent in the dungeon, but this was as quiet as it was going to get. Bucky continued to hold Lu’s warm, limp hand in his, figuring that would be the best alert when she woke up. He didn’t mean to doze - after all, his position against the bars was anything but comfortable - and he didn’t even realize that he was teetering on the edge of sleep until a spasm brought him back to consciousness.

“Hey, hey you’re okay.” he said immediately, and he couldn’t help but realize the tone he used was the same he usually did when he fell asleep in church.  _ I’m awake, Mrs. Rogers, I promise _ . Lu was clutching his hand, but this time it wasn’t as strong. Her breathing was quick, but not the hyperventilation associated with earlier. 

“‘Okay’ is a strong word.” she groaned out. She was still hurting, but it was manageable now. It was too dark to see her face, but he felt like he could tell what expression she was making based on her voice. 

“Are you alive?” he asked, going for the most basic thing he could think of. She was quiet for a moment, then took a shuddering breath.

“Yea. Yea, I’m alive.” she said, her fingers grasping his a little tighter. “Truth or truth, Barnes.”

He was taken aback by the statement, and was glad that the darkness could hide his surprise. “Truth.” he said, not able to come up with anything witty to add onto it.

“Are we gonna die here?” she asked. Her voice was higher, and it broke halfway through the question. It didn’t sound like something she would normally ask, which clued him in to exactly how much pain she was experiencing. 

“No. No, this is not what’s gonna do us in.” he said. “Truth or truth, Doc?”

She didn’t answer right away, but finally gave in. “Truth.” she said, her voice wavering even with just the one word.

“Are you giving up?” he asked. It hurt his heart to ask it, but he needed to know. He was already ready to fight tooth and nail for her, but if he needed to up his game from that then he would find something from deep inside him.

“No.” she said, a little firmer this time. “No, I’m not giving up on you.” 

“Good. Cause once we get out of here, it’s you and me against the world, baby.” he said. He meant to say it lightly, playfully, but the term of endearment came out a little too sincere. She laughed, finally sitting up as the laughter dissolved into coughing. He pulled her against the bars, pretending that he was the one holding her up and not the metal. 

“Think you can deal with me after all this?” she murmured. Normally she was hesitant about affection, but she felt miserable, and it was nice to feel him beside her. He pressed his face between two bars, giving him just enough room to kiss the side of her head.

“I think that’s what I should be asking you.” he replied. “That’s okay, I have a different question I can ask.” 

“Oh yea? What’s that?” she asked, clutching his arm where it rested over her abdomen. He knew his buddies would make fun of him, knew that he himself gave shit out to his friends when they talked about  _ long term _ with a girl. But now he understood it.

“Can’t ask you till we’re out of here.” he said, skirting the question anyway. It was the same reason he didn’t want to verbalize exactly how he felt about her: he didn’t want the sentiment tarnished by their environment. No matter how quiet they spoke or how close they tried to get, there were still a ton of men around them and bars between them. “But I’ll be with you, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“You’ll always have me, Barnes.” she said. He pressed his lips to the side of her head again, hoping he could convey how much he cared about her with that simple gesture. 

“It’s-”

“Oh for FUCK’S sake!” Mullens bellowed, making both of them jump. Bucky’s forehead smacked painfully against the metal bars, making him see stars for a second. There was a rustle in the darkness as he pushed himself up, and it sounded like an animal tearing its way through brush as he moved towards them. Lu put her back against the bars, trying to put her legs between her and the man. “Get it through your fuckin’ heads! We’re done! They’re gonna play with us and then fuckin’ kill us!”

“Mullens shut the fuck up-” Bucky started to bark back at him, but Mullens wasn’t having it. In one shocking move, he grabbed Lu - by her ankles or arms Bucky wasn’t sure - and jerked her roughly away from him. His arms met air through the bars as she disappeared into the darkness. “Doc!”   


“And guess what, asshole. She’s not yours, she’s stuck in here with me.” Mullens said. He was no longer yelling; his voice was low and gravelly and somehow much more terrifying. Bucky could hear people waking up around them, yelling and trying to figure out what was going on, but he didn’t have time for them.

“Get off of me!” Lu screeched. He could hear the sounds of the scuffle, feel the pressure of the bars as they bit into his chest and shoulders, but still all he felt was the empty air. “Get off!”

“I’ve held off long enough!” Mullens said. Panic wound its way so far up in Bucky that if it weren’t dark his vision would be red. He didn’t know what he was yelling anymore, he just knew he had to grab one of them. The  _ thud _ of a hit landing was deafening, and Bucky noticed that he couldn’t hear Lu’s voice anymore, only the susurrus of cloth moving. He was already expecting something bad, but when there was another  _ thud _ and Mullens made some sort of noise that might have been a punch in the gut or something else, the bad thoughts turned to the worst. He nearly broke in relief when he heard him gasp out, “You  _ bitch _ .”

“Fuck you, Mullens!” Lu said, and another  _ thud _ led to someone slamming against the bars next to Bucky. He immediately grabbed the back of the uniform, holding whoever it was to the bars by the collar. He didn’t feel long hair, he felt the short crop of a military buzz cut.  _ Mullens _ . 

“You son of a bitch.” he growled, holding him to the bars despite his struggle to get away. All the weakness he’d experienced earlier was gone, and he was surprised he hadn’t pried the bars apart. He snaked his arm through, wrapping it around his neck and preventing him from escaping. Mullens tried to fight back, scratching at his arm and trying to hit him, but the bars were actually helping him this time. He maintained the choke hold until his movements started to slow, and kept it up until he stopped moving entirely. He almost wanted to keep going and seal the deal, but this was another serviceman, even if he was a terrible one. So he let him go, Mullens’ unconscious body sliding to the side.

“Is he dead?” Lu asked breathlessly. Thanks to the adrenaline from the attack, most of her pain was hiding for the moment. Her heart still hammered in her chest, and her body still burned in all the places that Mullens tried to grab her. She shouldn’t be bothered by it; after all, what was one guy trying to take advantage of her versus all the scientists injecting her with who knows what? But it hadn’t been expected, it had come from someone on her side. And somehow that hurt worse.

“No, he’s still breathing.” Bucky said, his energy draining as the adrenaline left his bloodstream. He’d checked once the other man was at rest on the floor. “Chokeholds are designed to cut off the blood flow to the brain and knock people out, not actually kill them.”

There was a beat of silence, and he would’ve emptied his bank account to see the expression on her face. “Truth or truth?” she asked, her voice timid and shaking. For the first time they started the game, he was afraid of what she was going to ask him.

“Truth.” he said, just as quietly. He wished he could hold her, but knew that this was probably the last moment that she wanted to be touched. He couldn’t see her in the dark, but he could practically feel how she was sitting in a ball, her knees pulled up to her chest.

“How did you know how to do that?” she asked. She’d heard of people in the Army that had special training and special skills that gave them a certain advantage over other soldiers. Bucky was not one of those people.

“I was…” he paused, then started to laugh. He could feel her glaring at him in the dark, but he couldn’t help it. This had to be one of the most ridiculous things to brag about at a time like this. 

“Spit it out, Barnes.” Lu snapped, obviously still rattled. He swallowed his chuckles, trying to keep his voice steady as he answered.

“I was welter-weight boxing champion back in Brooklyn. In my teenage years.” he said. Again, he was at a loss for anything snarky to add, so he was left with just the explanation. Lu let out a dry laugh, not quite humorous, and shook her head. 

“Of course you were.” she deadpanned. He turned towards the sound of her voice and moved closer to it, but kept his hands on his side of the bars. 

“Are you okay? Did he…?” he couldn’t finish the sentence the way he needed to, and instead he just said, “did he hurt you?”

“Got the wind knocked out of me. Nothing more than that.” she said. She was slightly defensive, but he wasn’t going to press and ask why. She’d been through a lot in the last few hours, and for once he was going to keep his mouth shut and let her rest. He leaned against the bars, making sure it was obvious exactly where he was; a few minutes later, he felt as she lightly rested her shoulder against his. 

“Go to sleep, Doc. I’ll keep an eye out.” he promised. She sighed, shifting to get more comfortable.

“You can’t see in the dark.” she pointed out. He could hear the exhaustion in her voice; now that the adrenaline was gone, she was worn out from everything. 

“That’s where you’re wrong. I can use sonar. Like a bat.” he murmured. She let out a brief huff of a laugh. 

“So that’s why you yell so much.” she jabbed, though all the bite was gone from her voice. 

“Exactly. Sleep, Doc. I’ll raise holy hell if he moves toward you.” he said. She shifted again, groaning slightly in pain before settling. 

“Thank you, Barnes.” she said. She hoped he knew that she wasn’t just thanking him for keeping watch - she was thanking him for saving her, for protecting her, for being right next to her through all this. 

“You’re welcome.” he said softly. He listened as her breathing deepened and eventually evened out. It wouldn’t be a particularly restful sleep, but it would be better than nothing. It wasn’t that hard to stay awake; any time Mullens shifted or groaned in his sleep, Bucky was automatically on edge, waiting for him to try something again. He pushed himself up at one point and Bucky was practically vibrating while he waited to pounce, but Mullens just slinked to the opposite corner of the cage, laying down with a heavy sound and a groan before going back to sleep. Bucky hoped the man learned his lesson. Something in him doubted it.

He’d just managed to doze off when the lights came back to life, nearly blinding them all in the process. He threw his arm over his eyes in an attempt to protect himself from it, doing his best not to whine like he did when his mother used to open the curtains too early on a Saturday morning. Next to him, he heard Lu rousing, her movements short and stiff as she tried to shake the effects of the second injection. He heard her gasp, and before he could remove the cover from his eyes, she spoke.

“Barnes,” she whispered. He could tell that something was wrong, and immediately looked to her despite the blinding light that hit him. He was still blinking the stars away when she continued. “I think Mullens is dead.”

_ That _ got his attention. He pushed himself up, looking to where the other man laid in the corner of the cage. Sure enough, his body was oddly still. He’d seen people that still before, and had to leave them behind as they continued their marches. “Did I kill him?” he asked. He found he didn’t really feel guilty, because he could justify the death. It still meant another strike.

“No. It wasn’t you.” she said, shaking her head. She was pale and looked like she might be sick any moment, but her voice was steady and sure. “Last night...that was a surge. I’ve seen it a million times.” she said. He nodded; he knew what a surge was.

“One last ditch effort.” he said. He’d seen it a few times, but she didn’t need to hear that. She’d been around more bodies than he had. 

“He was dying no matter what.” she said, trying to comfort him. Even if he’d threatened Mullens multiple times, he didn’t actually  _ want _ to kill him. He didn’t want to kill anybody, except the bastards that were keeping them in captivity. He idly wondered what would have happened if he declared himself a conscientious objector when his draft number came up, but quickly dodged the thought. It didn’t do well to dwell on  _ what ifs _ , especially right now. 

It was then they noticed that the dungeon was quiet for the lights being on, and they tore their eyes from Mullens’ unmoving corpse and turned to look at the rest of the cages. Mullens wasn’t the only one to pass in the night; all the people that had been brought back the day before were lying still in their cages with no signs of life. Bucky tried to run a quick tally, tried to remember exactly which cages had been empty before, but Lu beat him to it.

“All of them.” she said, her voice strained. “All of them but me.”

Bucky wanted to dispute her claim, but as he looked through the cages he realized she was right. All of the soldiers that had left prior were now dead, except for the woman next to him. “That doesn’t mean anything. You’re gonna be okay. No surges, no nothing.” he said, turning back to her. But she didn’t look scared, she just looked tired. 

“If I live, that just means another injection. I don’t know if I can survive a third one.” she said quietly, looking down at her hands. He reached through the bars, taking hold of one of them. Her fingers were cold now. 

“Not gonna happen.” he said resolutely. He’d promised he’d get her out of here, promised her the rest of his life. He was not going to go back on that. “We’ll figure something out, okay? We will.”

The doors opened, and the hazmats came with their cart. Everyone was silent and on edge, watching as they went cage to cage to collect the bodies. The only time they bothered to pull out the electric baton was at Lu’s cage, making sure she didn’t try to run out as they pulled Mullens from his resting place. They needn’t have bothered; she was not going to attempt anything, not then. 

As soon as the bodies were gone and the doors were closed, the screaming started again. The panic was contagious, the men shaking the bars as they tried to get out before the hazmats came back. Bucky knew he should be right there with them, or perhaps trying to calm everyone down, but it seemed unnecessary at this point. So he stayed there, holding Lu’s hand as they waited. The unspoken hung between them, making time feel short -  _ they’ll come for you next _ . He wasn’t going to be able to fight his way out, so he needed to save his strength and fight his way through the injection. And until then, he didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to memorize every detail of Lu’s face so that he could remember exactly what - or who, rather - he was fighting for. 

He didn’t yell when the hazmats returned, didn’t fight them when they came into his cage. “Come back to me.” Lu said softly as they pulled him away, holding onto his hand as long as she could before he was too far. 

“I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere without me, okay?” he asked with a grin, hiding the way his heart hurt from the expression on her face.  _ Don’t go where I can’t follow _ . She didn’t get a chance to answer before they sank the syringe into him, and he just focused on her face as the world turned to black.


	26. Arms - October 18, 2014

**Chapter 26: Arms**

**October 18, 2014**

Cero, by definition, was a logical person. But when it came to her current mission, she really couldn’t believe her luck.

She had enough faith in her skills that finding the Summer and Winter Soldiers was never really a question. There was a relatively high likelihood that they wouldn’t kill her on sight, though admittedly that was banking on the fact that they’d walked away from Hydra without leaving a trail of bodies in their wake. Convincing them to come with her was going to be the tricky part. 

She’d meant what she promised, of course. She was going to try her best to get them across the borders into a neutral country - Hydra called it the black map, and in Nought they called it the no fly zone. It was definitely within her power...assuming they didn’t get caught or killed during this mission. She knew what people said about assuming. 

“Makes an ass out of you and me.” she muttered to herself, still zip tied in the backseat with Winter staring her down, casually flipping his knife between grips like he was one of those kids in the old movies flipping a quarter.  _ Show off _ .

“What?” Summer asked from the driver’s seat, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. Cero told herself she wasn’t afraid of them, but her body didn’t listen, a shiver going down her spine any time one of them looked at her directly. She’d met them once before years ago, on the border of Lithuania and Belarus. At the time they were still wearing masks, so she could see nothing but their cold, dead eyes staring back at her. There was a little more life in them now, but their gaze still wasn’t exactly  _ human _ .

“Nothing. Just thinking out loud. One of us has got to carry the conversation around here.” she replied, putting just enough boredom and annoyance in her voice to cover up the fear. These two were killing people since before she was born, and still looked to be about her age. That didn’t come without a cost, and if the rumors were true, they were still paying it off. “Wanna tell me a story? I bet you’ve got plenty of them.”

“What’s the mission?” Winter asked, ignoring her request. He must have asked it differently than usual, cause one corner of Summer’s mouth barely twitched in what some statues would call amusement. It sounded the same to Cero.

“Extraction.” she said simply. She didn’t want to give too many details now; she was hoping that she could hide most of her plan until theirs was already underway, and she was also hoping that Winter and Summer were the kind of people who finished what they started. Seventy years of data said so, but she had to admit that she was currently working with outliers. “A group from a different faction took something of ours. I’ve been charged with getting it back.”

“By yourself?” Summer said with another glance in the mirror. Her intonation was the same as everything else she said, but the way Winter changed the grip on his knife  _ ever so slightly _ gave it away that they were suspicious. Cero didn’t blame them, this was the most suspicious thing she’d ever done - and that was after being a spy for two decades. 

“Technically this is supposed to be a recon mission.” she said, continuing to evade the questions. Her success would depend on them buying in, and convincing the two of them would take every ounce of knowledge that she’d gathered over the years.

“You don’t need us for recon.” Winter said. 

“You’re right, I don’t.” she said defiantly. Obviously she was good at recon, that’s how she was able to find them before anybody else. That, and a few well-placed, well-timed blocks of C-4. She thought maybe if she puffed her chest a little, challenged him a little, it would garner some respect. “But this mission is time-sensitive, so I didn’t have time to deal with bureaucratic bullshit and red tape. I needed someone good, and I needed someone off the books.”

“Everyone is looking for us.” Summer pointed out, reminding her of what she’d said earlier.  _ Dammit _ . Weren’t they supposed to have memory issues? 

“We’re hardly off the books.” Winter finished. For the hundredth time, Cero wondered if they shared a brain. Then, she wondered if it would make it easier or harder if you shared a brain with your partner. Then she remembered what she was supposed to be doing. 

“Yea, you guys aren’t exactly under the radar right now,” she started, shifting a little in her seat. Her shoulders were starting to hurt from keeping her arms in one spot. “But you’re pissed. And a little feral. Which is, like, exactly what I need right now.”

“And no one else in Nought would help you?” It was posed as a question, but Summer somehow made it sound like a statement. 

“No.” Cero said, short and to the point. She hoped they couldn’t tell how the question almost broke her, the one knife that could slip through the chink in her armor. If they noticed anything, they didn’t comment, instead continuing their mild interrogation. “Just like with Hydra, Nought is all about power. And power requires a hierarchy. And unfortunately, I am alone at the bottom.” That part was true, just not the entire truth. But they didn’t need to know about Nul - she wasn’t part of the mission. 

“What are we extracting?” Winter said. Cero didn’t like the way they volleyed questions at her, back and forth. It made her have to switch the tone of her answers with each one, which made her feel unbalanced. She was the mission leader, she was supposed to be commanding the conversation, and yet somehow she felt like they were a half step ahead of her - and laughing at her behind their hands. 

The inevitable question. This is the one she was actually ready for. “Something valuable to Nought, that will affect how things play out should any future issues arise.” she said. Perfect cryptic tone, perfect creepy smile. But all that was lost on them.

“Technology.” Summer said, short and unimpressed. But also, wrong.

“No. Think a little more basic.” she said. This answer was  _ also _ part of her plan. 

“Arms.” Winter tried the next likely answer.  _ Perfect _ . 

“You could say that.” she said airily. The two of them shared a look but didn’t press further; they’d busted plenty of arms deals in their day, what was one more to grant them security for their freedom? “It’s probably gonna end in a fire fight. But I’ve got resources. And weapons. I’m planning on making it out alive.” she said. It was only fair to warn them, even if they were more likely to survive than her. She was dying to ask exactly what Hydra did to them, but the risk-reward ratio was not in her favor. Even if they actually remembered what happened, they probably didn’t want to talk about it. 

“We can handle a fire fight.” Summer matched the airy tone she’d used just moments before. Anyone else, Cero would think that they were making fun of her. But something about the way Summer spoke was different, as if she were trying to learn the nuances of conversation again. It occurred to her that they probably were.

Damn. She knew they were fucked up, but didn’t realize it was this bad. 

The checkpoint at the Grecian border appeared in the distance, so Summer pulled onto a side street out of view and stopped the car. Cero grumbled that they could’ve gone a little closer, but neither of them saw fit to give her a response. They opened the trunk and put on their weapons and coverings with practice ease, two warriors ready to go into battle. Cero had no choice but to stand there, hands tied, until they remembered that she was a vital part of this operation too. 

“Any chance I could oh, you know, regain use of these bad boys?” she said, dramatically waving the bound appendages. Summer and Winter shared another look - stupid fucking telepaths - before Winter moved to her. He was faster than she thought, getting in her personal bubble and pressing a knife to her throat.

“Betray us, and we will kill you.” he said. His voice was soft and controlled, which was somehow worse than when he snapped at her back at the villa. She gulped audibly and willed herself to stay together. 

“Trust me, I have too much riding on this to betray you.” she said, her voice steadier than she thought it would be. He stayed there a second longer, analyzing her face for any trace of a lie, before slicing quickly with the knife. She closed her eyes, wondering if she couldn’t feel her throat being cut because he’d moved so fast-

“We don’t trust you.” Winter said, walking away. She opened her eyes; she was not, in fact, bleeding out from her carotid artery. Her hands were now free, the cut zip tie dancing away in the wind.

“Littering is bad, you know.” she said, quickly grabbing her things from the trunk of the car and jogging to catch up with them. Bastards, they didn’t even know where they were going. She could have sworn she saw a smile on Winter’s face, but it was gone with the wind, and soon they were just walking in silence. 

It was easy enough to traverse the terrain; there weren’t a ton of mountains to climb or bodies of water to hinder them. If anything, the lack of terrain made it more difficult, because there was nothing natural to hide them from view. Three people walking across a pasture weren’t, in themselves, unusual. But three people dressed in dark clothing and carrying huge backpacks and weapons were a little on the conspicuous side. Summer and Winter kept Cero between them, though they periodically scanned in opposite directions. That’s how it always was, with Summer keeping watch on Winter’s weak side. Cero finally stopped rambling, letting them do one of the many jobs they were trained to do. 

All of them were a little more at ease when the sun began its descent. The day before, Winter had noticed the colors that painted the sky when the sun set, and recognized that it was something pleasing, something beautiful. But yesterday, they were at the villa. Today, they were on a mission. He did not notice the colors or the clouds. He only noticed how the shadows elongated, how the sounds of nature changed, and how the world was shifting into its nighttime state. 

Once past the border, it was easy enough to steal a car. This time he drove, with Cero in the passenger seat and Summer in the back, ready to make a move if anything were to go wrong. So far, he’d seen none of the usual signs of deceit - everything from her words to the way she carried herself said that she was telling the truth. 

It didn’t mean they trusted her. It just meant that the probability she wasn’t leading them into a trap was slightly higher than the alternative.

Thessaloniki wasn’t far from the border, barely an hour drive when adjusting for traffic regulations. They drove into the city proper and then through it, down to the southern edge. They turned off towards the water, the little car moving slowly through the winding streets towards the docks. Cero pulled out a cell phone, tapping the glass screen a few times until a map popped up, a little blue dot blinking in one spot. Winter eyed the phone, trying to determine if the technology Nought used was similar, or if they had something more advanced. He told himself he was making sure that she wasn’t calling in Hydra handlers, but if he was honest, he was curious about the phone and how it worked. 

“Here. Pull in here.” Cero said, interrupting his thoughts. Now was not the time to wonder about technology. They had a mission to finish. Cero was completely different now, her movements quick and sure as she got her backpack and started down the street. Winter pulled a pistol from its holster, and Summer held her rifle at the ready, both of them keeping their eyes wide open as they followed her down the street. She did not move with the same grace as the ballerinas of the Red Room, or with the same harsh maneuvers that Winter often adopted if the situation didn’t call for subtlety. She was light on her feet, like Summer, but something about it was noticeably different. 

She scanned the nearby buildings before settling on one, scaling the side of it like a bug. Winter and Summer did not have the training for this and therefore were forced to use the fire escape, climbing up one of the posts in an effort to make as little noise as possible. By the time they made it onto the rooftop Cero had already set up most of her equipment: a scope, a scanner, and apparently some sort of automatic weapon. She attached the wires easily, thoughtlessly; this was as easy to her as fighting was to Summer and Winter. He gently touched his pocket, making sure the drive she gave him was still there and secure. It would not do to make it through all this and lose what information they had left. 

“There’s two on the roof, two on the ground, and one patrolling the street.” she said after looking through the scope. Once she was out of the way, Summer moved to it, wanting to see the enemies for herself. Cero looked like she wanted to say something - she probably was not used to sharing equipment - but decided against it, allowing Summer to take count as well. The count was right, though Summer would never say so. 

“Do we know how many inside?” she asked, pulling back from the scope. Cero had already moved on, looking at the screen of the scanner. Winter could see vague orange and yellow shapes on the screen and realized these ellipticals were people - large people, with broad shoulders and gun-shaped shadows in their arms. Her eyes moved as quickly as the scanner, different areas flashing on the screen. 

“Looks like fifteen.” she said. She spoke like it was an estimation, but they all knew that the count was exact. She broke down the scope and the scanner to impossibly compact packages, putting them back in her backpack. The gun she left, touching a few buttons before leaving it. She took out three tabs, handing one to each of them and tucking the third into her pocket. “Here. So Chiro knows not to shoot you. She’s had my back many a time now.” 

Summer and Winter realized that the gun was set as a backup, and something stirred in them at the thought. She didn’t have actual backup, just a mechanized reinforcement. At least when they were going through their worst missions they had each other. Cero took one last look towards the building before pulling out her phone, showing them a 3D model of where they were going. 

“Okay, so the goods are stored on the top floor, which is where most of the guards are. It’ll be easy enough to take out the sweep, but we’ll have to get the roofers and the doormen at the same time, otherwise the whole thing is gonna go tits up. From there, I figure we continue to bottleneck them from both sides - you can’t fight a war on two fronts.” she said, showing the model of the building and the relative positions of their enemies. She paused, tapping the screen for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. “I know you two probably don’t wanna split up, but I don’t think I can handle this many without assistance. I don’t have super whatever-the-fuck you guys have.”

Winter looked to Summer, reading her expression. The plan was simple and sound enough, but Cero was right - they did  _ not _ want to split up. Even the idea set off alarm bells in their heads and made it a little harder to breathe.  _ Divide and conquer _ . It was one of the fundamentals of battle. Was this all still a ploy? Or was it their plan?

“Okay if you could have your conversation out loud, I’d really appreciate it.” Cero cut in. She was getting impatient, and Winter couldn’t help but glare her way. They were helping  _ her _ , she had yet to hold up her end of the bargain. He pulled his knife again, but this time he did not bother threatening her with it. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way he carried himself. This time, she moved close to him. “I’m not tricking you, I swear.” 

“Better not.” Summer said. Something green unfurled in her chest at the sight of their closeness, and she was glad to see that her pointed words put space between them again. Cero nodded, adjusting her belt.

“Shall we?” she asked. She didn’t bother asking which of the soldiers would be going with her; she’d seen that look in many women’s eyes before they realized she wasn’t a threat. So instead she just hopped over the edge of the roof, using the edge of the fire escape to slide down. Winter and Summer followed, landing nearly silently on the concrete. Their steps were purposeful but quiet, mirroring the trail of the lone guard making his lazy rounds. Cero cut through an alley and, as soon as the man walked by, grabbed him and sank her knife into his throat. He let out a brief, gurgling cry that didn’t go beyond the mouth of the alley before succumbing to death. 

They crossed the street, going to the back side of the buildings. There was more cover here thanks to the shape of the buildings, trying to protect their faces from the waterfront. It was easy to run along the side unseen, Cero holding up her hand to signal they were at the right one. Winter pointed his first and second finger at the women before flicking his hand towards the door. They would go from the bottom up, while he would work from the top down. Summer nodded immediately, touching her chin with her middle finger and then twisting her hand towards him.  _ Good luck _ . Cero glared for a moment but eventually agreed, though he could practically hear her grinding her teeth. They ducked in between the buildings to move to the front, and he wasted no time in holstering his weapon and jumping. 

His metal hand sank into the brick wall with little resistance, giving him a firm hold to swing himself up further. He was not trying to be stealthy at this point, he wanted the men to hear him coming so that they would be distracted from what was going on below. Just as he planned, both roof gunmen were at the edge by the time he arrived, but neither of them expected a super soldier to come flying over the wall fist first. The metal slammed into the face of the first man, his bones crumbling under the force of the metal. The second man was a little quicker, pulling his gun up to shoot. But Winter was faster, ripping the gun from his hands and slamming his fist into his head. He felt a twinge of regret as the second man fell; they had not done anything against him, and they did not deserve to die. He didn’t want to kill them. But he did want his freedom, and if he had to take a few more lives to ensure that he and Summer could walk, then he would bite the bullet and do it.

The men inside must not have heard him coming, because none of them were facing the door when he exited the stairwell from the roof. They were all looking in question towards the far door, where far away sounds of turmoil were echoing from the floors below. A surprise then.

The first man was easily dispatched, his neck breaking like a stick over a knee. 

The second man turned to see what the noise was, and was met with a knife to the throat.

That slowed Winter down a bit, and the third man was able to turn his gun on him. Winter used the second man’s body to catch the bullets, then kicked it hard at his comrade, slamming them both into the wall. 

The fourth man opened fire, and Winter turned his body so that the metal arm was shielding most of it. He heard the gun jam, and took the opportunity to pull out his pistol, shooting the man between his wide, panicked eyes as he realized who he was dealing with. While he had his pistol out, he shot the third man, ensuring he would stay down. 

The fifth man pulled out a large knife, turning it expertly in his hand. Winter, in a show of good faith, holstered his pistol. The man yelled and leapt towards him, knife brandished high in the air and striking down at a dangerous speed. Unfortunately, he was right handed, and his forearm shattered as Winter raised his left arm to block the knife. He yelled in pain and dropped the knife into Winter’s waiting right hand, his scream dying as Winter jammed the knife into his windpipe. 

Men six and seven tried to double team him, with six attacking from the front while seven came around the rear. Six landed a good hit to his ribs, enabling seven to grab him from behind, putting him in a firm chokehold. But Winter knew how to fight with limited oxygen, and kicked six so hard in the chest that it sent all of them backwards, slamming into the narrow walls of the hallway. Winter had a very hard head, and when the back of it hit seven in the face, it knocked him out cold. Six still held on to consciousness, but that was quickly remedied by a boot to the head. 

The eighth man, the last one in the hall and by far the biggest, turned on Winter with a look of unbridled rage. This man had not been hired for his intelligence, he’d been hired for his size and his skill. He had half a foot and nearly fifty pounds on Winter, but that didn’t worry him. He’d fought bigger before. 

A feminine shout from below distracted him for a moment, and eight took the time to strike. His heavy fist slammed into Winter’s chest, forcing the air from him and sending him back a few feet. The man said something in Greek, probably meant to be threatening and menacing, but Winter did not know Greek, and therefore did not feel intimidated in the slightest. His biggest concern was the cry from below - he knew the sounds Summer made when she was in pain. If Cero had somehow gotten her injured, then he would give the woman a quick death. 

Eight sent a kick out towards him, and Winter was able to get his metal arm up in time to redirect his leg. The man followed the momentum, twisting so he could plant the first foot and kick out again with his other one. The man was a good fighter, but not good enough to be a challenge. Winter caught his ankle with the metal hand, the plates clicking and grinding as he gripped it hard enough to snap the tibia and fibula. The man screeched in pain, pulling his leg back. Unfortunately that sent his weight backwards, and out of habit he moved his injured leg to catch himself. That sent him to the ground with another yell, his ankle buckling underneath him like an accordian. Winter stepped over him, and the man reached for the pistol at his hip, pulling it out and emptying the entire cartridge with an animalistic scream. Of course, all the bullets bounced off Winter’s hand and ricocheted into the walls, but he appreciated the last ditch effort. He pulled out his own pistol and without hesitation shot just once, the man going silent as the bullet hit his brain. 

There was something about the eerie silence after a fight that was always soothing to Winter. The quiet meant victory, meant he was still alive, meant he wasn’t going to get punished. Silence was good. 

The door slammed open and he brought his pistol up immediately, but it wasn’t anymore goons. Cero and Summer strode through the door, and his eyes instantly found the dark spot at Summer’s waist, her fingers holding it stained red. He turned on Cero, anger that he hadn’t felt in a long time rising up within him, but Summer cut him off.

“I’m fine. Through and through.” she said. He looked to her, trying to gauge her level of injury. She held his gaze steadily, with no wince of pain or sign of distress. He turned back to Cero.

“Lucky.” he stated, surprised at the malice in his own voice. He almost regretted it when he saw Cero’s look of fear, almost apologized for it. He didn’t want to be that man anymore. But he also couldn’t show weakness. She needed to be afraid of them, otherwise she might back out on their deal. 

“That’s my middle name.” she said, her voice high and tight. She cleared her throat, trying to bring back some semblance of confidence. “Let’s get the stuff and go, yea?” 

She went down the hall to the last door on the left, pulling out a lock pick and deftly using it. The lock clicked and she eagerly opened the door, swinging it wide so Winter and Summer could see exactly what they were extracting. He expected boxes of guns, maybe explosives. What he found was completely different.

“You said these were arms dealers.” he said, his voice quiet and even.

“I mean, they have arms.” Cero replied. 

The room was filled with rusted wire beds, and on most of them sat young children. They were filthy and obviously malnourished, staring at them with wide, blinking eyes. Their heartbeats raised as one, and Winter could practically smell the fear coming off of them. 

“You want us to help you bring them back to Nought?” Summer asked. This was not part of the deal. She knew they’d done missions like this before, and even helped train the kids that survived Hydra. She would  _ not _ do that again.

“No.” Cero said quickly. “I want you to help me get them out.”

There was a beat of silence, in which many facts fell into place. “You’re walking away.” Summer said as the realization hit. Cero nodded.

“I figured if you two could do it, so could I.” she replied, not looking at them. She took a deep breath. “But we can bond over that later. Right now, we gotta go.” 

She smiled at the kids and said something in Greek, gesturing for them to come with her. They had no belongings to grab, no essentials to stuff into their pockets. They had nothing except the clothes on their back. Winter suddenly felt fiercely protective of them, the emotion nearly knocking him back a step.

He no longer felt bad about killing the men on the roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank y'all for everything!!! i'm curious, who would you cast as cero?


	27. Rescue - November 1, 1943

**Chapter 27: Rescue**

**November 1, 1943**

_ That name does sound familiar. _

The words hit him like a punch in the gut, and Steve still felt the familiar ache as he ran back to the stage tent. Somewhere around a hundred men were stuck in a Hydra base, and the Colonel was just going to let them die there.  _ It’s called winning the war _ . What an asshole. 

Steve knew about risk, and he knew about reward. And he knew about having a friend that you would move heaven and earth to save. 

So he threw off his raincoat and grabbed his leather jacket, hoping it would be good enough to protect him from the elements in Austria. He wouldn’t take any weapons from the soldiers here - they needed them more than he did - but he would take his shield. Okay, and maybe a pistol. But just one.

And maybe a helmet. 

He was striding out of the tent and towards a Jeep when he spotted - or rather heard - someone crying just outside the tent. She was young, her dark hair escaping the knot she’d probably hastily tied it into. He paused then, knowing that while he needed to get moving, he couldn’t just leave her on her own.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, feeling bad as she started and looked up at him with big doe eyes. He wasn’t used to being so stealthy, even as big as he was. “Sorry.”

“No, no you’re fine. I’m - I’m fine.” she stammered, wiping away her tears and pretending she hadn’t just been breaking down. Her white nurse’s uniform had a large red stain along one hem, but she didn’t seem to notice it. “Thank you.”

“You-”  _ you don’t look okay _ is what he was going to say, but Peggy taught him to be a little better than that when talking to girls. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

She gave him a sad smile, shaking her head. “Not unless you can bring people back to life.” she said, looking down at her hands and picking at her nails. Her hands were dry and red, probably from washing them so much, and possibly wringing them with anxiety. 

“You’re missing one of the soldiers. The ones caught behind enemy lines.” he said, realization dawning on him. But she shook her head again.

“My friend. A nurse. She sent me back to the camp, the night they…” her voice grew tight, her emotions threatening to spill over again. “I just miss her, that’s all.” she finished.

Steve nodded, for once not pressing further. “I’m sorry. I lost one of my friends to them too. That’s why I’m gonna go and save them.” He knew he should say that he would  _ try _ and save them, but failure was never really an option for him, especially now. She perked up at his words.

“They changed their minds? They’re doing a rescue mission?” she asked. She looked hopeful, and trusting. She believed in him, and so did Peggy.  _ You’re meant for more than this _ .

“Not exactly.” he said honestly. He tried to put on a confident smile, to play into the character they made for all those Hollywood films. “But someone’s got to go, right? Who better than Captain America?” 

She saw through the facade, but didn’t comment on it, instead just pressing her lips together and trying not to cry again. “Well, Captain America, please bring my friend home.”

“Yes ma’am.” he said with a mock salute, making her laugh. She was cute when she laughed, her smile lighting up her whole face. He’d have to remember that, if he made it back alive. 

It wasn’t until he was halfway to the Jeep that he realized he’d never asked the girl’s name.

...

For a moment when Bucky woke up, he forgot what was happening. 

For just a moment, he thought he was just waking up. His last memories were of Lu’s face, gazing at him with feeling. He felt warm. He was laying down on something that wasn’t the metal floor of a cage. 

That’s when his eyes snapped open. This time, there wasn’t a light to blind him, just a dim lamp on a table in the corner. He tried to move and quickly realized he was restrained, the thick leather unforgiving as he tugged against it. There were three other men in the room with him at varying degrees of consciousness, all of them trying to free themselves too. There was one metal table with four syringes on it, their glass showing off the red liquid inside. The lamp gave them a sinister glow, like a fire about to ignite. He swallowed thickly, reminding himself that Lu survived this, and if she survived, then he needed to also. He couldn’t leave her to fend for herself here. He couldn’t let her be here alone. 

“What the fuck-”

“Where are we-”

“What’s happening-”

“We’re tied down-”

The men next to him were waking up and realizing their situation, and part of Bucky wanted to give in and panic with them. But panic wasn’t going to do anything to help them; if anything, it might hurt them.

“Hey, hey shut up.” he said, his voice barely louder than them. “Hush!”

“Or what? They’ll kill us? We’re dead anyways! You saw what happened this morning!” one of the guys said. Bucky didn’t recognize him, and didn’t bother trying to read the tag on his uniform. All he cared about was that he was encouraging the others to lose their minds. 

“We gotta get outta here!” another guy said, his voice probably an octave higher than usual as he started struggling heavily against the restraints. The first man did the same, both of them flopping like fish caught in a net. 

“There’s nowhere to go.” Bucky said, frustrated. “You have to calm down and save your strength. You’re gonna need all of it.”

“We’re done for!” the man right next to him said, bursting into loud sobs. Everyone responded differently to the realization that they were about to die. Some panicked, some got angry, and some only held a deep sadness. But one thing everyone had in common was that there was a layer of regret. Bucky could see all of those things now in the room with him, and for some reason with all this turmoil, he only felt numb. He didn’t feel like he was in that room anymore, he was just seeing these men like actors on a screen. At that point they were both alive in front of him, but also dead. The first guy was right. Dead men walking.

He didn’t answer them after that, letting them cry and yell and scream to whatever god would listen to them. It wouldn’t do them any good. He laid his head back against the chair, clenching his fists and trying to think of the good things in his life. That’s what he needed to hold on to right now. His body betrayed him, a few tears leaking out of his eyes and into his hair, combining with all the sweat and grime from the past few weeks. That was fine. He needed to have some sort of release. 

The door opened and three men walked in, Dr. Becker trailing after them. He looked vaguely upset - probably annoyed that all of his other lab rats had died. The other men yelled and begged and bargained with him, but he ignored them, instead holding the glare that Bucky was sending his way. Bucky said nothing, and neither did the doctor. He simply gestured towards the syringes, and the men went to take them. One grabbed two, and Dr. Becker stopped him, holding his hand out for one of them.

“I’ll do this one myself.” he said, his accent sharp. There was no hesitation, no pretense that they could be talked out of this. They went, one by one, and sank the syringes into the arms of the men. Screams of fear turned into screams of pain, the noise so loud that Bucky felt like he was back on the Cyclone at Coney Island. His stomach clenched, his breath was short, but he didn’t give Dr. Becker the satisfaction of begging for his life.

“Any last words?” he asked with a grin.  _ Fuck you _ , is what Bucky wanted to say.

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. United States Army. 32557038.” he said instead. The doctor didn’t bother cleaning his skin, just pushing the needle into his arm and emptying the syringe. If Bucky thought the first injection made him feel like his world was on fire, this second one sent him into the fifth circle of hell. He held out as long as he could, clenching his teeth and gripping the armrests of the chair, but soon his screams joined the chorus as whatever it was burned inside him. 

One time in 1935, their senior class had taken a trip to the Upper West Side to the American Natural History Museum. There, Bucky had gotten to see dinosaur skeletons, replicas of mammals in their habitats from all over the world, and creepy crawlies that lived deep in the ocean. But the most important thing was the opening of Hayden Planetarium - the whole reason for their trip. There they got to see constellations up close and see planets in their positions. A man in a white lab coat with a flimsy clipboard told them that when two stars collided, it burned with a heat so bright and hot that it turned white.

Bucky reckoned that’s what was happening in him right now. Whatever was in the injection was colliding with every bit of stardust he’d collected over the years, making new universes explode in his blood. He no longer knew his name, or where he was, or what was happening, he only knew the pain. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that he had to survive this, that it was  _ possible _ to survive it. But for the first time in his life, he wanted to give up. Luckily, before that thought could take root, he lost consciousness.

He couldn’t say how much time had passed. He was only awake sporadically; the first time he woke, all four men were still in the room. The second time, one was missing. The third time, he was alone. He didn’t know if they were moving them or if they were dead, and he found he didn’t have the capacity to care. The world didn’t seem real right then, and he only focused on himself, rather than the others. He couldn’t save them unless he saved himself, right?

“Right.” a voice said. He looked over to see a scrawny guy leaning against the wall, his arms crossed as he grinned at Bucky. “You got a lot of people depending on you, Buck.”

“Steve?” he asked, his throat dry and his voice cracking. Steve nodded, pushing off the wall. Bucky lost him for a second in the shadow; but instead of Steve coming out of the dark, he saw a different blonde.

“You can’t save me if you don’t live.” Lu said with a gentle smile. She laid a hand on his cheek, but he couldn’t feel it over the pain. 

“Well you saved me first, Doc.” he said. Her hand moved to his chest, tapping his dog tags.

“Turnaround’s fair play, sergeant.” she said. Something flashed in his memory -  _ Sergeant James Barnes. 32557038 _ . 

“32557038.” he murmured. She nodded, patting his sternum again. The touch felt like it was from a ghost.

“That’s right, Bucky.” she said. He blinked for a second. Bucky? She never called him Bucky. He didn’t think she even knew that name for him. Something wasn’t right. He looked at the ceiling, trying to figure out what was real and what wasn’t. “Bucky? Bucky.”

He felt his body shake, and then his ankles felt strangely light, followed shortly by his torso. He could breathe a little easier now. Lu said something else, but he couldn’t quite discern it. He blinked, his vision clearing a bit. Lu’s face turned into a man’s, the top half of it framed by a helmet. He blinked again. He knew that face.

“Hey, hey it’s me. It’s Steve.” he said. This time, when the hand was put on his shoulder, he could feel it. 

“Steve?” he asked, almost wanting to cry again. He could feel every finger as Steve grabbed his arms, hauling him to his feet. It was real. 

“Yea, yea come on.” Steve said, holding him tight as he regained his balance. His body still hurt from the injection, but adrenaline was starting to rise, masking some of the pain. Steve had that vaguely confused look he got when he was thinking of too many things at once. “I thought you were dead.”

Bucky looked up at him and decided not to tell him that he felt dead. Wait a minute, since when did he look  _ up _ to Steve? His vision stopped swimming and he could finally fully see the man in front of him. “I thought you were smaller.” he said, the first thing that came to mind. Explosions and gunfire sounded from outside, and Steve pulled Bucky’s arm over his shoulders and started half helping, half dragging him out of the room.

“Come on.” he said as Bucky tried to keep up, tried to get his feet underneath him. The man carrying him was a solid brick house. There was no way this was his Steve, but at least it was someone that was helping him out.

“What happened to you?” he asked. Hallucinations could change people, but they couldn’t carry him. 

“I joined the Army.” Steve said lightly, still pulling him forward. 

“Smartass.” Bucky murmured. Perhaps this was, in fact, Steve. They rounded a corner, and Bucky felt like he was breathing for the first time. He pushed himself off of Steve, finally standing up a little taller.

“Did it hurt?” he asked, wondering if whatever the Army gave him was like the shit the Nazis had pumped into him earlier. Steve seemed fine. Maybe he would be fine too.

“A little.” Steve said, his eyes scanning the area in front of them. Bucky actually had to hurry to keep up with him now. This was definitely new.

“Is it permanent?” he followed up. They’d read the comic books, seen how a man could lose his power if he used it too much. And that tended to happen at inopportune moments - like escaping an underground hellscape. 

“So far.” Steve said over his shoulder. The building above them rocked and shook as something exploded, and Steve took off at a jog towards the stairs and started going up. Bucky started to catch up to him, but then was hit by a wall as his mind fully came back to him.

“Wait. Wait!” he said, skidding to a stop at the landing. “We have to go down first, Doc is still down there!” 

“I - what? Who?” Steve asked, but Bucky could tell they didn’t have time for an explanation. Any pain he had left him as he stumbled down the stairs, nearly falling in an effort to get down into the basement. Steve was yelling behind him but he was also following, which was the most important part. Bucky pulled open the door and stopped in the hallway, looking left and right to see which way to go. He could see the elevator shaft in the middle, and at the end of the hall, a door. That had to be it. He took off running, hearing Steve’s footsteps behind him, and shoved through the door. It gave much easier than he thought it would, causing him to fall onto the floor and roll with momentum. He was dizzy when he stopped, but he didn’t care, pushing himself back up onto his feet.

“Barnes?” a voice asked. Oh thank God, she was still alive. “Barnes!” 

“Oh so  _ this _ is Doc.” Steve said from behind him. Bucky rushed to her cage, realizing too late that he didn’t have a key to the lock.    


“Fuck!” he said, looking around for anything they could pick it with. Of course, the floor was bare, and all the other cages were empty.

“Barnes, Barnes get me out, please, I don’t know what the fuck is going on up there but we’re stuck-” Lu was starting to lose her head a little, and Bucky didn’t blame her.

“No hey, hey, it’s okay, we’ll figure it out.” he rushed, grabbing the bars and pulling. Maybe they left it unlocked?

No dice.

“Fuck!” he yelled again, pulling the bars harder. In his panic, it almost felt like they gave a little, but when he looked again they had not.

“Let me try.” Steve said, appearing next to him. Bucky stepped to the side, still gripping the metal and watching as Steve took one bar of the door in both hands and pulled. The door stayed locked, but he was knocked back as the bar itself snapped off. “Holy shit. Can you fit through that?”

Lu moved and stuck her leg out, but the remaining bars squeezed her hips and ribs, reminding her of pain that she thought faded. “I can’t. I need one more.”

“Coming right up.” Steve said, grabbing the bar next to it and repeating the process with a grunt. It was obviously a strain on him, but Bucky couldn’t help but let his jaw drop, even as Lu nearly fell out of the cage and into his arms. He had to take a couple steps back to right them but held her up, crushing her to his chest and making a note to ask Steve about this later.

“We gotta go, okay?” he said, pulling Lu’s face up and framing it with his hands. She looked like she wanted to cry and took a shuddering breath, nodding when it was through. Her hands were shaking but he could see the resolve in her eyes: she was ready to run for her life.

“This is sweet. Can we run now?” Steve asked, gesturing towards the door. Bucky nodded, grabbing Lu’s hand and taking her along for the ride. Adrenaline was a beautiful thing, giving them a burst of energy and pain killers so they could sprint up the stairs to the ground floor. 

The whole base was in flames, huge parts of it falling and crumbling. They had to get out  _ now _ . They followed Steve up the steps to the catwalk high above the bunker, keeping them safe from the fire below. It was rickety at best, the metal straining with the heat even without any of their weight on it. 

“Captain America! How exciting!” a German voice yelled. Three pairs of eyes snapped up and spotted the man in the black suit across the catwalk blocking their way out. He handed something to the man behind him, who looked considerably more nervous. “I am a great fan of your films.”

They did not know this man, but Bucky could tell by the way Steve shifted his weight that he could not be trusted. He put his arm in front of Lu, gently guiding her behind him. She didn’t let go of his hand, and he had a feeling his knuckles were going to be bruised when this was all over. 

“So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all.” the German man continued, stepping out onto the catwalk. Steve walked out to meet him, holding himself at his full height. Bucky once again was astounded by how massive he was now. “Not exactly an improvement but, still. Impressive.”

Steve reached back and shot his fist out, clocking the guy across the jaw with a jab that Bucky’s father would be proud of. The man stumbled back a few steps, grabbing onto the railing to regain his footing. “You’ve got no idea.” Steve said as he stood up. Half his face seemed to sag slightly, red showing underneath his eye. Wrong. Wrong. This was all wrong. 

“Haven’t I?” he said, sending out his own punch. Steve got his shield up just in time, but the resounding  _ clang  _ echoed through the bunker before being snuffed by the fire. Steve went to pull a pistol from his hip but the moment of distraction left him open, the guy landing his punch this time and sending Steve to the ground while his gun fell off the edge and into the inferno below. He didn’t hesitate, sending a leg out to kick the German. The kick actually lifted the man off his feet before sending him flying backwards and crashing onto the metal walkway. The man behind him could take no more, pulling a lever that separated the walkway and the dueling men. 

“No matter what lies Erskine told you, you’ll see I was his greatest success!” he cried, reaching below his jaw and slowly peeling off the skin of his face. Something cold and heavy settled in Bucky’s stomach at the sight, too thick to throw up. Behind him, Lu choked out an  _ oh, my God _ . The skin left behind was red and tight, nearly glowing from the fire below. He no longer looked human. 

Then his words hit him. “You don’t have one of those, do you?” he asked. If the man who made Steve also made this guy...they were going to have to have a chat later about taking up offers from strangers. 

“You are deluded, Captain.” the Red Skull continued, moving back towards the doors behind them. The small, round man in glasses moved with him. “You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind! And unlike you, I embrace it proudly! Without fear!”

“Then how come you’re running?” Steve asked, and Bucky added  _ don’t challenge the weird alien people _ to the list of Things To Talk About. Red Skull didn’t answer, only giving them a sinister smile as the elevator doors closed.

The bunker shook again, and Steve looked around for an exit, his eyes settling above them. Lu followed his gaze, spotting the door - and the thin beam in front of it.

“You’ve gotta be kidding-” she started to say, but was interrupted by Steve herding them towards the stairs.

“Come on, let’s go.” he said. Bucky saw the plan too, but didn’t have the same reservations she did. He pushed Steve and Lu in front of him, taking up the rear as they climbed and climbed all the way to the top. They reached the beam and Bucky helped Lu climb over the banister, holding her hand as long as he could before she was on her own. The heat from below swelled and threatened to choke her, and the idea of being stuck here threatened to get her stuck back in Hawaii, but she gritted her teeth and only focused on the door in front of her. It couldn’t have taken her longer than a couple minutes to cross, but it felt like days, and when she reached the end she collapsed onto the landing exhausted, coughing and trying to get her body to stop shaking. The adrenaline was wearing off, and she was about to crash.

Behind her, the beam groaned, and she forced herself up to see Bucky carefully making his way across. Her heart was in her throat, her hand outstretched over the railing. She couldn’t breathe with the smoke and couldn’t think with the exhaustion, she just knew that she had to get him across safely. The metal hinges squealed under his weight, the middle supports snapping and dropping the second half of the beam down a step. Lu felt like she was watching it all slow motion, her chest aching with the way she was holding her breath. Bucky kept his eyes on hers, his steps careful. A loud creak sounded from the joists next to her, and he felt the reverberations as one by one the bolts failed. He had a split second to make the decision, to take three quick steps and leap for the railing. He slammed into it, hurting his already bruised ribs and straining his arms to hold on. Lu’s hands were on his shirt and his belt, holding on for dear life as the beam fell away into the fire below. He tumbled over the railing, then used the metal to pull himself back up to his feet. Steve was still on the other side. 

“There’s gotta be a rope or something!” he called to him, knowing even as the words left his mouth that the idea was stupid. The distance was too great, there was no way he would make it, and by the time he or Lu were able to find anything to help the bunker was going to be reduced to ash.

“Just go! Get outta here!” Steve yelled, gesturing towards the door. A protective feeling welled up in Bucky; Steve had come this far to save him, he was not going to leave him behind. 

“No! Not without you!” he shouted back, his voice raw with strain and emotion. He already had enough strikes on him, Steve would  _ not _ be one. 

“Maybe he can make it.” Lu said softly. He turned to her, already feeling hurt and betrayal at her implication. But she didn’t mean that Steve could make it if they left; she was looking at the distance, her eyes shifting. “But we may have to catch him.”

Bucky turned back to Steve, and realized he was having the same thought. He bent a piece of the metal to open the side of the ramp, then backed up to give himself a long enough runway. For the first time in a long time, Lu thought about the planes that were on the battleships at Pearl. Not the ones that came for them, but the American ones, who had a super short runway but always managed to take off in time.

“He can do it.” she said, more to herself than anything. As if Steve could hear her words, he set his shoulders and put his eyes on the target, gearing up for it. The fire below continued to rage and grow, threatening to devour them all where they stood.

He took five long, powerful strides and then jumped. 


	28. Little - October 18, 2014

**Chapter 28: Little**

**October 18, 2014**

In all their years together, Winter and Summer had assassinated presidents, liberated mob bosses from prison, and launched full on assaults on small governments. But nothing,  _ nothing _ , compared to wrangling unruly, scared children through the streets of Thessaloniki. 

Winter thought that it would be better for them to split up; it would be easier for each of them to protect a few kids, rather than all of them trying to move as one big group. But Cero didn’t trust them with the kids, and they didn’t trust her not to betray them around the next corner, so they were stuck trying to direct them to whatever safe place she had lined up. Cero led the pack, encouraging the kids in Greek and repeatedly turning back to count them and make sure they were all there. Summer quickly picked up the words she was saying, parroting them so that the children would trust her too. Winter brought up the rear, sweeping the area with sharp eyes and waiting for the enemies to find them. He could feel the hum just under the surface, another sense that told him that they were being pursued, and that the enemies were coming quick. It was one thing to protect Summer - it was another to protect all these little ones. 

Seeing the kids brought up emotions (both positive and negative) in them that they couldn’t name, so instead they just focused on the mission and planned to sort through the feelings afterwards. Feelings had no place in missions. Feelings is what got you shot. That was a lesson that Summer had been very acutely reminded of that evening. She could feel her body knitting together the bullet wound in her side, but much of its attention was going towards keeping her legs moving and her eyes on the targets. The kids were huddled close to one another and close to her and Cero, and somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if she was accidentally getting blood on any of them. At first her hand had been slick on her rifle, but now the blood was starting to dry, making her grip sticky and her skin feel tight. Blood did not bother her. But altered sensation in one of her more important appendages did. 

“Incoming.” Winter said harshly in Russian. The mission had pushed him back to how he used to be, less man and more machine. Cero kicked down a doorway and ushered the kids through while Summer whirled around, her sight already at her eye as she took in the situation. Men in black spilled out from a dark building, red lights flicking across the street as they aimed in their direction. Winter readied his stance, bringing his gun to his eye and preparing for the onslaught. There were too many gunmen, too many enemies to take out at once. Summer grabbed him by the back of his shirt, throwing him behind a dumpster and diving behind it herself as their combatants opened fire. A ricochet caught her in the leg, making her grunt and grit her teeth as she gained another bullet wound. But at least Winter was safe.

“Stupid.” she said to him. Before, she would have kept that to herself. The men at Hydra made it clear that he was the one in charge; Winter made it clear that they were equals. He gave her a harsh glare that said he was missing the times he was the primary, cocking his gun and readying himself. 

“I’m faster.” he replied. If they weren’t in the middle of a mission, she would roll her eyes. Instead she just glared back.

“You’re not bulletproof.” she said. She had a feeling she’d said the same thing to him before. The gunshots stopped, and they heard the men discussing in Greek. Boots moved on the ground and guns clicked as they repositioned, giving away exactly where they were. Behind them it was quiet, so they assumed Cero had gotten the children to safety. “Give me a hand.”

His glare intensified. “I hate when you say that.” he muttered, but switched his gun to his right hand. The left one he held up above the dumpster, fingers held just right so that bullets couldn’t pass through. Summer rested the barrel of her rifle on the edge of the dumpster, right under his hand, and started returning the fire with his palm shielding her face. The metal plates clicked into place as he held the position, leaning to the right himself so that he could shoot from the side. The men sent fire back towards them, but every shot hit either the metal of the dumpster or the metal of Winter’s hand, perfectly positioned to protect her. It was like shooting fish in a barrel after that - the men had neither the protective mechanisms nor the training that they did, and one by one they met their deaths. 

The steady quiet of victory settled in, but Summer and Winter didn’t have time to bask in it. “All clear?” Cero’s voice came from behind them, startling them and leading to two guns pointed at her. Out of habit, she raised a pistol back towards them, though no one had any intention of shooting. “Is it all clear?” she asked again, this time a bit more insistently.

Summer lowered her weapon, and after a moment Winter followed her lead. Only then did Cero drop hers, her eyes still looking earnest. “Clear.” Winter said lowly, his metal arm clicking quietly as he adjusted his grip. Cero nodded, gesturing to the kids in the room to get them to follow her again. They must have had a conversation because now they were remarkably quiet despite their age. The youngest appeared to be about four years old, and the oldest boy, who was likely around ten, carried her most of the time so that she wouldn’t get lost in the fray. Cero didn’t hesitate, taking off down the street again and assuming the rest would follow. She took them a roundabout way back to where she’d set up her remote gun, her gaze never once wavering from the road in front of her. She placed a lot of trust in them to watch her six, and they didn’t know if that was a good thing or a mistake. 

Something changed in the way she moved when they turned onto a different street, and Summer knew that meant they were in the home stretch. It also meant that they were at their most vulnerable. She glanced back at Winter, and he held two fingers towards his eyes before sweeping them to the area around them.  _ Watch _ . She had been about to make the same sign to him, but he’d beat her to it. She nodded, subconsciously moving towards the right, to Winter’s weak side. 

Headlights suddenly flooded the area in front of them, making their shadows long and menacing in the night. Cero’s face, pale in the bright light, went through a series of emotions before settling on one: resolution. The truck rumbled to life, but because the lights were so bright, they couldn’t tell its exact size. All they could tell was that it was  _ big _ . They didn’t know if it carried men or guns or explosives, but regardless, it was coming for them.

“Go! We’ll take care of this.” Summer called over her shoulder, once again moving to Winter’s right. Cero thought about protesting for a moment, but seeing the shadowy faces of the scared and confused children led her to only nod before taking off again. Gears groaned as the truck shifted, the engine kicking once before it started moving.

“We don’t know what’s there.” Winter murmured, reaching into his pocket to pull out their last magnetic grenade. 

“Do we ever?” she replied. He tilted his head to the side slightly, acknowledging the comment. Sometimes Hydra gave them all the information they needed, and sometimes they were sent in blind. It never ended up mattering.

“We don’t know where they’re going.” he said, pulling the pin and launching the grenade at the space between the two headlights. Over the sound of the engine they could hear the squeaks of windows being rolled down, and the clicking of guns getting ready.

“I’m a good tracker.” she said, casually stepping away from him and into the darkness. For a brief moment the lights shone on the distant line of children running, Cero a dark shadow at the front of them. Then fire took the place of the headlights as the engine block exploded, launching the truck up and over onto its back. There was a brief rain of bullets as panicked fingers squeezed triggers, but none of them reached their mark. The truck landed with lightning and thunder; this time there was no silence after the battle, instead there was a soundtrack of fire and melting metal. 

Doors whined as someone pushed them open, trying to escape the wreckage. Whether or not they were planning to go forward with their mission didn’t matter - one by one they got picked off by Winter and Summer, hiding in the dark wings and aiming at the exposure of neck just below the helmets. When soldiers stopped exiting the back of the truck, Winter holstered his weapon and pulled out a hunting knife, going and swinging into the back despite the fire and potential enemies. Summer kept her eye on the exit, the area between her shoulder blades tense as she heard the sounds of fighting and shots. But those soon stopped too, and she held her breath until a man jumped from the wreck, his metal arm glinting in the firelight. She felt herself sag, just slightly, in relief, getting up from her spot and going to meet him. The corner of his mouth was barely lifted in a grin, telling her that he’d seen her reaction. 

“Worried about me?” he asked with just the slightest inflection in his voice. She gave him an unamused glance before walking in the direction Cero had taken the kids earlier. 

“Worried I was going to have to save your ass.” she said, her voice actually holding a bit of the bite that it used to. But the tone did not frighten him. In fact, it made him give her almost a real smile. “Let’s go.” she growled, infuriated by his mirth. He jogged to catch up to her then matched her pace, following her lead as she found the trail Cero took.

She’d moved remarkably fast for someone wrangling children. They tracked her through the town, past the point where she’d set up her gun (which was gone), and into the outskirts. The trail went cold at the end of a street, leaving Winter and Summer standing there wondering how in the hell they got cheated. 

“You two are kinda slow, you know that?” a voice came from behind them. Once again, they raised weapons at Cero, but this time she didn’t bother holding her own against them. She stood with her arms crossed and her weight on one hip, not caring that she was almost shot.

“We got a little caught up.” Winter said through gritted teeth.  _ Ungrateful _ was the word that came to mind. It was something that the scientists had said about them a lot, and it never felt right to him. Now he understood why. Almost as if she could read his mind, Cero’s face softened, her arms dropping to her sides.

“Right. Thank you. For back there.” she said, gesturing towards the town. They could hear sirens now in the distance going towards the fire, a billow of smoke making a dark smudge on the horizon. “Come on, safehouse is this way.” 

They glanced at each other before hesitantly following. She showed them to the back of an abandoned house, but they didn’t go inside. Instead, she pulled what looked like an attached portion of the wall away from the house, revealing a narrow staircase into the ground. She moved confidently for someone who wasn’t enhanced, steadily moving down into the basement. “I had this built over the past six months. It blocks any form of recon, has protective measures set up for the surrounding twenty kilometers, and a spare exit - oh, and I have three backup locations if we need to run.”

“Impressive.” Summer said. Cero wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or sincere, but decided on the latter, if only to help maintain her ego. The narrow staircase opened into a wide basement, dimly lit from small lights around the edges. The children sat huddled in one corner, the older ones trying to be brave and the others too young to know they were supposed to be scared. Cero had a whole stash of food and water piled up, and had been in the middle of handing it out when they arrived. 

“Here, you finish this.” she said, handing a crate of food to Winter. She looked to Summer and nodded towards another corner of the room, partitioned with a curtain. “Let’s get your bullet wound patched up.”

“I can tend to myself.” Summer said. Winter looked as startled as she felt, eyeing all the kids as they came up to him. It took him a moment before he reached into the box, giving the food to eager hands.

“Yea? How’re you gonna stitch up the exit wound?” she asked, actually putting her hands on Summer’s shoulders and attempting to turn her. Summer, of course, did not move. Cero gave her an unamused look. “Dude. Come on, you took the bullet for me. Just let me stitch it up for you.”

“You what?” Winter asked quietly, turning away from the kids to look at Summer. Summer allowed herself to turn then, following Cero’s lead.

“Let’s go.” she said, as if the curtain would protect her from the glare that Winter was directing at the back of her head. They ducked behind the curtain and Summer pulled off her vest and her shirt, ignoring the look of surprise that Cero gave her. Summer sat on the stool and picked up the medical kit, handing it over to her. “Make it quick.”

“Yea, right, yea.” Cero said. After all the secrecy and standoffishness, Summer had whipped off her shirt like nothing. The difference between exposure and vulnerability, she supposed. Cero washed her hands then set to cleaning the wound. She knew it had to be painful, but Summer never moved, never flinched, never blinked. She just let Cero work in silence. Cero didn’t like silence. “So, what was the final straw?”

“What?” Summer asked, as if she didn’t understand the question. Cero paused her motions to look at her, pretending that her intense stare wasn’t unnerving. 

“What made you two walk away?” she said. She dropped her eyes, going back to cleaning the wound. 

“Winter told me to.” she said nonchalantly, as if that was all the explanation necessary. Cero furrowed her brows, but kept her focus on the needle in front of her as she tried to thread the string. 

“Yea? Just woke up and decided enough was enough?” she asked. There was clearly more to the story, and this time she wanted to pry a little bit. Summer shrugged, not seeming to notice as the needle bit into the skin of her side. 

“Yes.” she said. She didn’t understand the conversation. “It wasn’t until later that the memories started coming back. That’s when we realized we were never supposed to be there in the first place.”

“World War II. Soviets got you.” Cero supplied. She didn’t know if they remembered that.

“Hydra. It doesn’t matter where they were from. They were Hydra.” she said. She didn’t sound angry, or sad. It was just matter-of-fact. She realized that she probably should entertain the conversation both ways. “Did Nought take you?”

“They were the lesser evil at the time.” she said. Now she realized why Summer and Winter were less than forthcoming with their answers: it wasn’t comfortable, sharing information. 

“Why walk away?” she said as Cero pulled the last stitch closed and tied it expertly. Summer took the needle from her and put another thread through, getting to work on the entrance wound. Cero carefully secured gauze over the back.

“They killed the woman I loved.” she said, standing up and stepping away. Now she had confidence. “It wasn’t worth it after that.” 

Summer gave her a long, unblinking look, and for once, Cero held it. “I understand.” she finally said. She didn’t remember what love felt like, but she remembered that she had felt it before. She remembered sacrificing everything for it. 

“I’ll take first watch. You and...Winter get some rest. You deserve it.” she said, stepping back behind the barrier. Summer continued stitching the wound in steady motions, listening for any sounds of trouble. The kids seemed to be done eating, and were settling in for the night. She wondered how many times they’d been moved, if they could adjust to a new place so quickly. After all, how many times had she and Winter been taken to a strange place, and just accepted it as their new normal? And they hadn’t even been kids when they were taken. 

She finished with her wound and checked her thigh for good measure, but that one didn’t need stitches. She pulled her shirt back on, her lip curling slightly as the sweaty fabric settled again on her skin. She’d gotten used to being clean over the past few months, and wished she had an extra shirt. Perhaps Winter had one in his bag. 

Someone had found bedrolls, pillows, and blankets in one of the boxes, and the kids had fallen into a light, restless sleep. She looked for Winter and found him settled on the floor in a cross-legged position, his back against the wall with a clear view of both exits. On his lap was the smallest child, the only one deeply asleep. Her face was smushed against his chest, her tiny fingers loosely grasping his shirt. Summer settled next to them, just close enough that her leg was touching his. 

“How did that happen?” she whispered. Winter wasn’t holding the girl. In fact, he looked uncomfortable. But he wasn’t moving.

“Made the mistake of sitting down.” he replied. He lifted a hand, looking like he might rest it on her back, but he let it fall back to his side. He had memories of crying children, memories of calming them like this. But he didn’t remember them being so small and so delicate. “I used to like kids.”

“You still can.” she said. The girl shifted, settling further into Winter’s lap. He looked down at her, and all he could think of was how pure she was. He couldn’t hold her, couldn’t taint her with the blood on his hands. He hoped the hammering of his heart didn’t wake her.

“We used to want them. Do you remember?” he asked. The conversation had taken place in a tent. She’d said she was there for warmth; they always had different excuses.

“I do.” she said. “I said two. You said four.” 

“I didn’t want a sibling to be left alone.” he said. He wasn’t sure he’d ever said that aloud before, he couldn’t remember. She nodded, as if she knew.

“We would be terrible parents now.” she said. Again, matter-of-fact. He let out a brief huff of a laugh then immediately stilled, afraid that he’d woken the child. But she slept on, unbothered. 

“We would.” he agreed. They had too much damage, too much emotional baggage. But they would make sure these kids got to live a real life, not just the shell of one they’d been forced into. He got himself comfortable, and Summer did as well. Slowly, very slowly, she reached over and rested her hand on his. He grasped it lightly, refusing to let go, even as he felt sleep steadily overcoming him. 

They had to rest before tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, sorry I didn't update last weekend. Unfortunately, I've been dealing with a recent tragedy. I'm going to try my best to keep to my regular schedule, but updates may or may not be a little spotty for a while. I say this not to garner sympathy, but just so y'all know what's going on. And if I'm able to update and the quality isn't there, please let me know (gently).
> 
> I hope everyone is safe. Tell your friends you love them.


	29. Stars - November 1, 1943

**Chapter 29: Stars**

**November 1, 1943**

There was a time, when they were about sixteen years old, where Bucky took Steve to Coney Island and made him ride all the rollercoasters. The Cyclone had been the one to finally make Steve sick, but before that, there was the Dead Drop, which pulled them up high above the boardwalk and then just...let them go. The brief moment where they felt the slack of the rope before the drop happened was Bucky’s favorite, because that was the moment Steve realized that he’d truly fucked up.

Now, as Steve sailed through the air towards them, Bucky figured he was getting a taste of his own medicine. 

Steve slammed into the railing, and despite the fact that he clearly had a pretty good hold on it, Bucky and Lu both grabbed whatever part of him they could and heaved him over onto solid ground. Behind him, the fire surged for a moment, sending a wave of heat and smoke into their eyes. Lu dropped to one knee coughing, and if Bucky wasn’t running on adrenaline and chutzpah, he might have done the same. But he needed to get his best friend and his best girl safe. 

“C’mon, Doc.” he said, his voice dry and gravelly from excess smoke inhalation. She continued coughing but took his hand, her grip strong as he hauled her to her feet. Steve grabbed both of them by the backs of their uniforms and pulled them all the way up before stepping in front of them, kicking the door in front of them down. Exactly how strong  _ was _ he?

Bucky didn’t have time to ask, because at that moment he had to use all his oxygen to run after Steve through the base. They could hear the sounds of it collapsing around them, screams echoing from deep in the basements. Were those screams his men, or the fucking Nazis who worked here? How many strikes were going on his record tonight? He pushed the thought away, knowing that there was nothing he could do right now except get the hell out of dodge. Lu struggled to keep up, the past weeks taking their toll on her stamina and strength, and her breath wheezing as she tried to catch it. He forwent propriety, putting her arm around his shoulders and his own around her waist, roughly grabbing the waistband of her uniform pants so that he could help her. She shot him a brief look that was a funny mix of disdain and gratefulness, and he would have laughed if he could spare the air.

“Come on!” Steve said, turning around and realizing the space between them. Bucky wondered how long it would take him to realize they weren’t right behind him. He also wondered what the hell happened that Steve could outrun him now. He ran back to them, his voice clear as day and his breathing almost easy. What the  _ fuck _ . “Come on, we’re almost there. Promise.” he added, going to Lu’s other side to take more of her weight. Low booms shook the ground as they ran, giving them the idea that the floor was about to fall out from underneath them. They could see the door now, blown open by the men that came before them. A cold breeze shot some life back into them, and for the last few yards Lu pulled herself free and ran on her own. 

Steve jumped in front of them as they exited, his shield held high as he took stock of the situation. There was still a firefight going on, though it didn’t seem as dramatic as the actual fire going on inside. Most of the Nazis were facing away from them, their sights trained on the 107th as they rained hell on them. One man turned and noticed them, and Bucky let go of Lu so that he could take two quick steps and clock the man across the jaw. He fell like a ton of bricks, and Bucky reached down to take his rifle from him, seeing as he wouldn’t need it anymore.

“Thank you for your donation to the United States Army, asshole.” he muttered. He was going to kick the guy for good measure, but a startled scream distracted him. 

“Barnes!” Lu’s voice, so markedly higher than the others, brought him back to reality. She was huddled behind a dead tank, her face barely visible behind Steve’s shield. Clearly he’d pulled her there, saving her when Bucky had been too inattentive to protect her himself. A deep anger burned in him at his own insufficiencies, a heat that had nothing to do with the fire in the bunker building up the back of his neck. 

But Steve had no weapon. And he did.

It didn’t take Howard Stark to figure out how the rifle worked, and Bucky knelt to the ground and turned his attention to the enemies in front of him. Steve would guard Lu, and he would make an exit for them. Suddenly it was like the past few weeks hadn’t happened; his muscles were calm, his heart rate slowed, and there was nothing in his mind except his target and his trigger. Bullets were coming from every direction, and his back was to a wall, but somehow he felt he was at the perfect vantage point.

He didn’t have time to count to seven and take a breath and say a Hail Mary and all that. He felt like a machine. Target, sight, adjust, shoot. Move on to the next. Target, sight, adjust, shoot. Boom. Boom. Boom. Down, down, down went enemy after enemy as his shots found homes in the bits of flesh visible in the night. The fire almost seemed to brighten them, their white skin turning a glowing orange and giving him something easy to lock onto. Boom. Hit. He kept going until there were no more glowing targets, all of them now just dark masses fading into the shadows as their lives drained from them.

The sirens kept screaming even when all of the enemies were down, interrupting what was usually the humble silence of victory. “We gotta move.” Steve said, gesturing towards the open gates with his head. Now that the bullets had stopped, Lu tumbled out from behind him and collapsed into Bucky’s waiting arms. Steve was right, they did need to get a move on, but he wanted this moment. For the space of a breath, it was just the two of them, soaking in the fresh air and starlight. 

“Told you I’d get you out.” he murmured against her unwashed hair. Neither one of them smelled pleasant, but he couldn’t care less. Right now all he could smell was freedom.

“Technically it was your friend there.” she said, her voice muffled by his chest. He could feel her straining to breathe against his embrace, but didn’t want to let go for fear that she’d float away.

“We just spent a hundred years in a bunker and you still won’t give me an inch, huh?” he said, a weak laugh escaping him. She looked up at him then, her eyes shining in the fire and her lips parted. He didn’t know if he should say something or just kiss her, but either way, he was interrupted.

“‘Ey! Lovebirds! Let’s go!” Morita called from the gates, gesturing with his arm. Steve was next to him, sporting a shit eating grin and that stupid shield.

“I tried to tell ‘em.” he said to Morita, and Bucky was surprised that he could hear it. But that wasn’t something he needed to dwell on. In fact, it wasn’t even in the top five questions he had at that moment. He turned back to Lu.

“Fine. Consider this me saving your ass.” he said, biting his tongue from saying anything more bawdy. She gave him an unamused look but grabbed his hand, letting him take the lead into the forest beyond the gates. 

It was hard to run at first, especially since the adrenaline was leaving them and the malnourishment was sinking back in. Steve led the charge, and Bucky took up a position at the back, telling himself that it was just to make sure he could keep an eye on everyone. For sure it wasn’t because Lu kept silently threatening to lag behind the group. He could still see the serum’s affect on her, and he almost felt the need to apologize - he could still feel it, yes, but it wasn’t eating him alive like it was previously, and he certainly wasn’t still fighting it like she was. So he kept one hand on his rifle and his other in hers, making sure she kept going. A few of the men tried to take jabs at them between rough breaths, but the insults washed over him. A few years ago, those would be fighting words, but now Bucky saw it for what it was - jealousy. That alone added a little fuel to his fire. 

It was well into the night before Steve deemed them far enough away to make camp. They could no longer hear the sounds of the fire, and the sirens were just distant enough that they didn’t have to shout over them to speak. Most of the men deflated as soon as they stopped, all the wind leaving their sails at once. Bucky could see on his face that Steve wanted to keep going -  _ could _ keep going - but realized that they were going to have to take a break sooner or later. Men settled against trees and laid down on the leaf-covered floor, the ground seeming like the best feather bed at the Waldorf-Astoria compared to the cages they’d been in. Bucky and Lu picked their way through them until they reached Steve, who stayed standing as if they hadn’t all just run through hell.

“You keepin’ watch?” Bucky asked. Lu barely pulled away from him so she could lean against a tree. She was pale and clearly hurting, but she kept on her brave face while her lungs tried to catch up. Steve nodded. “I’ll help you.”

“Nah, you look like you’re about to keel over. I got it.” Steve said. In his defense, Bucky  _ felt _ like he was about to keel over, but he’d never admit it, especially to his best friend. Steve’s eyes slid over to Lu. “So are you going to introduce me or…?”

“Not positive yet that you’re actually Steve.” he said with a little more honesty than he intended. Steve grinned and laughed, the expression and sound so perfectly familiar that there was no denying his identity. 

“Feels like I know you already.” Lu said, her voice a little weaker than she wanted. “Barnes would not shut up about you.”

“Aw, about how much you miss me?” Steve asked, looking entirely too pleased at the situation.

“About how much of an asshole you are.” Bucky snapped back, making Steve laugh again. Normally this was where Bucky would sling an arm around his neck and rub his knuckles into Steve’s scalp, but he had the feeling that move wouldn’t work anymore. “This is Lucille.” The way he said her name definitely betrayed his affection for her, but they all pretended to not hear it. “Doc, this is the lamentable Steve Rogers.”

“Nice to meet you.” Steve said, holding out one hand that nearly swallowed Lu’s in a shake. He looked even bigger now that the injection had worn off some; since when was he taller than Bucky? And had more muscle? Asshole.

“Likewise.” she said with a gentle smile. A green monster, deep in his chest, opened one eye to spot the way they looked at each other, and when Steve finally let go of Lu’s hand Bucky couldn’t help but grab it again. Steve’s smirk grew, and he took a step backwards.

“I’m gonna go check the perimeter, see if I can find some water. You two get comfy.” he said, giving them one last grin before turning on his heel and wandering off into the night. Bucky let out a long breath, and next to him Lu’s shoulders sagged. 

“Help me down, Barnes. I’m spent.” she said. Her forehead had the barest sheen of sweat despite the cool temperatures, but her hands were clammy as he held them. He told himself it was just shock, and half lowered her, half fell with her onto the forest floor. They leaned against each other and the tree, trying to find the position that required the least amount of energy. Finally, it felt like they could breathe.

“So that’s Steve.” Lu said after a while, breaking the silence. He nearly startled; he’d thought she’d fallen asleep. “He’s different than you described.”

“Yea, well, he’s different than I remember.” he said, letting out a huff of a laugh. He thought of her statement earlier. “Don’t go leaving me for him, now.” 

She burrowed a little deeper into his side, her fingers finding his dog tags and lightly running over the stamped letters. “You have nothing to worry about.” she said quietly, looking down at the metal in her hand instead of at him. It was the closest to vulnerable that he was going to get, and he was okay with that. He felt the shift between them; despite finally being out in the open, somewhere where they could stretch out, they were only trying to get closer to each other. She wasn’t the most verbal with her feelings, but actions always did speak louder than words. “Thank you,” she continued, still fidgeting with the dog tags. “for getting me through all this.”

Feelings that he’d been holding onto burned so hot behind his sternum that he wondered if she could feel it. “I wouldn’t have made it without you.” he replied. He rested his lips against her head; as long as he didn’t move, it didn’t count as a kiss. He recalled the beginning of their captivity, when she asked why he took her place. What he’d felt then had only gotten stronger, even as their bodies got weaker. He hadn’t wanted to tell her then, hadn’t wanted to spoil his confession by making it with bars between them. But now it was just them, with no cages and no Nazis. “Doc? Can I tell you something?” he said, barely above a whisper. 

“Yea.” she said, as if she knew where he was going. She grew unusually still, her grip tightening on the dog tags. He wondered if she was nervous, or excited, or both. He put his hand on her cheek, bringing her face up so she would look at him. Despite her nerves she held his gaze, some emotion in her eyes that he couldn’t quite name. He ran his thumb over her cheek, gently brushing away some of the grime. 

“I love you.” he finally said, his heart in his throat. Her breath hitched, and the dog tags squeaked as she squeezed them tightly together. For a moment she said nothing, and he had the crushing realization that there was a chance she didn’t feel the same way. 

“How would you feel,” she whispered, still holding his gaze. She swallowed thickly, and he realized that she was trying very, very hard to actually say what was on her mind. “if I chose this moment to collect on our wager?” 

It seemed like a lifetime ago that they’d sat on those buckets playing cards, hazarding a kiss to the victor. He had kissed his fair share of women, and knew that many of them wanted him to initiate, but Lu wasn’t like that. He’d let her win because he wanted her to be ready, to decide when to take that step - if she ever deemed him worthy enough. “I’d like that very much.” he finally said, his hand sliding from her cheek into the tangled mess of blonde hair. She pushed herself up straight and shifted towards him, her face so close that he could see the faded pink freckles across the bridge of her nose. She leaned her forehead against his and licked her lips, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes in anticipation. Then, she finally kissed him. 

Their lips were chapped and dry. They were sweaty from their escape. Their skin was covered in weeks worth of filth. Any hope of fresh breath was gone before they even had the thought. Their clothes as they leaned together were rough on their skin. 

And it was all fucking  _ perfect _ . 

Bucky had kissed his fair share of women. But it had never been like this. 

It wasn’t about fireworks, or an electric shock, or the universe exploding behind his eyes. Her kiss felt like a sunrise, like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day, like falling into his bed after a long shift. It felt like  _ coming home _ . He could, and would, kiss her forever - if she’d let him. 

She finally pulled back and he half expected her to move away, but instead she nuzzled her face into his neck, unknowingly letting him feel the heat on her cheeks. He leaned his head against hers, taking in the way she was breathing, how her heart was beating against him, how her hands were holding him. They were finally free, and finally together. 

“So does this mean...I mean, do you…” he said it in a teasing manner, but he couldn’t deny he was completely serious. She laughed, shaking her head against him.

“Dammit, Barnes. Yes, I love you too.” she said to his skin, holding him tighter. He returned the embrace, relishing in the closeness and in the moment. If he forgot everything from the rest of his life, he wanted to remember this. They sat like that for a long time, their grips eventually loosening. He could feel her alternate between holding herself up and nearly putting all her weight against him, trying to stay awake, trying to make this last just a few minutes longer. He was tired, yes, but he was going to stay awake until Steve got back. He gently ran his fingers through her hair, at least what he could without pulling on the tangles, the movement helping to keep him alert.

“Go to sleep, Doc.” he finally said, making her sigh. “I’ve got you.”

She didn’t say anything, just giving him the barest nod before sliding down to lay on the ground, her head resting on his thigh. He moved his arm to her waist, once again feeling the warmth of affection as she tangled her fingers in his and went to sleep.

The moon was well past its peak by the time Steve came back, his steps quiet despite his new size. He slowly settled down next to them so as to not wake Lu, resting his elbows on his knees. Despite the relaxed position, Bucky could practically feel how he was ready to spring into action if he needed. In comparison, Bucky felt like his limbs were made of lead. It was entirely possible that his leg was numb from where Lu was laying on it, but it didn’t seem significantly different from the rest of his body.

“So,” Bucky started, pausing to see if Lu was still sleeping. Her breathing was still slow and even, her body completely limp with exhaustion. “You gonna tell me what happened?”

“Are you?” Steve countered with a meaningful look in Lu’s direction. Bucky couldn’t help but grin like a fool in love.

“Eventually.” he agreed. “But I asked you first.”

Steve rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh. “It’s a long story.” he said, and despite his exhaustion Bucky replied with,

“We got time.” He didn’t know if he could make it through a long story, but he wanted to try anyway. Steve gave him a look that said he saw right through the bullshit, and just patted Bucky’s free leg.

“Rest up, Buck. We got a long walk ahead of us.” he said. Bucky furrowed his brows, giving him the surliest expression he could muster.

“You don’t have an extraction plan for us besides  _ walking _ ?” he asked. The question had absolutely none of the attitude that he was hoping to convey. Steve reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small radio-like box. Well, it used to be a box. Now it was a chunk of metal and plastic with an antenna and a giant bullet hole.

“Can’t exactly call my ride.” he joked. Bucky took in a breath, shaking his head.

“Figures.” he muttered. The silence that settled over them thickened, charged with the remaining energy from their flight.

“They told me you died.” Steve said finally. Bucky  _ hmphed _ , not finding the energy to laugh.

“Felt like it sometimes, if I’m honest.” he said, the weight of the statement settling on him. The Army thought they were all dead, or at least on their way to it. They were going to continue on with the war without coming for them. If it weren’t for Steve...Bucky didn’t want to think about it. “Thank you. For coming to get us.”

“Til the end of the line, pal.” Steve said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “I knew this wasn’t your last stop.”

“Better believe it.” he said, once again the bravado falling flat. Lu said it right earlier - they were spent. 

“Rest, Buck. I’ll wake you first thing.” Steve said again, a little more insistent. This time Bucky listened, shifting so that he could be a little more comfortable. Lu stirred with the movement but didn’t wake, and the last thing Bucky saw before falling asleep was Steve’s stupid, smiling face.


	30. Cover - October 19, 2014

**Chapter 30: Cover**

**October 19, 2014**

Summer fully expected to be awoken by hell raining down on them, but instead the morning crept in quietly, the light sneaking in through slits at the very tops of the walls. In the darkness the night before she hadn’t seen these cuts, but as the room changed from black to grey it was enough to pull her from sleep and send her eyes into every corner to check for enemies. The children had finally given in to their exhaustion and fallen into deeper sleeps, and next to the front door Cero had fallen asleep sitting in a makeshift chair, her head resting on her fist. Everyone looked younger when they were asleep, but Cero looked younger than most, and Summer wondered, despite the artificial age of her and Winter, exactly how many years difference there were between them. 

Something shifted below her line of sight, and she snapped her eyes down to find the small child from the night before curled up with her head on Summer’s thigh. Her tiny hands were tucked underneath her leg, seeking warmth. Summer wondered how long she’d been there, how she didn’t wake when the girl moved, and where in the hell Winter was. 

She heard the tell tale signs of someone stealthy walking by the windows, the lightness of their feet likely hiding their actual size. The steps were heavier on the left foot, just enough to give away who it was. She’d walked next to Winter for the past seventy years, she knew the sound of his footsteps like the sound of her own heartbeat. Sometimes, she knew the sound of him better. She went to move, to get up and go help him keep watch over the perimeter, but the little girl shifted, mumbling in her sleep and moving one hand to gently grasp the fabric of Summer’s pants. Summer sat perfectly still for a moment trying to decide what to do, then carefully used her thumb and forefinger to take hold of the girl’s hand. Her intention was to pry her grip from the cloth, but the girl simply moved her hand and took hold of Summer’s finger instead. Summer’s eyes went wide - how could this girl feel safe, holding onto her like this? How could she sleep with three known murderers in the room? 

She needed to move.  _ Now _ . The girl was dangerously close to making Summer face things that she had lost, and she was not ready to tackle those demons. She needed to escape, to retreat, to get away from the precious child with her small hands and cherub cheeks-

“You’ve been detained.” Winter’s voice was quiet, but it was something that she could focus on. She swallowed down the panic threatening to overtake her. Taking down eight assailants with nothing but a chef’s knife? Easy. Dealing with the emotional damage inflicted by Hydra? That was something she may never be ready for.

“Taken down by a worthy adversary.” she replied, as if the grip of tiny fingers wasn’t overwhelming. She changed the subject, trying to save face. “You didn’t wake me.”

“You needed sleep. For your wounds.” he said. Of course he knew that she had more than just the one bullet wound. “Why did you protect Cero?”

Summer knew this question was coming, and had an answer prepared. “She’s currently our only course of action.” she said. It was true enough; without her, there was no way they could get through the borders into a neutral zone, somewhere where neither Nought nor Hydra nor any other shadow organization could claim them. But she’d be lying if she said a small part of her hadn’t just acted on instinct, wanting to keep the younger woman from harm. “Besides. I can handle a shot much better than she could.”

“That’s bullshit.” Cero said from her terrible bed, her voice feeling unnecessarily loud. She uncurled herself, groaning as her joints moved into more normal positions. “You don’t know how well I could handle getting shot.”

“I’m genetically engineered to survive.” Summer pointed out, unsure why this was a competition. Cero scoffed.

“So am I. I just run on spite instead of a serum.” she said. She stood and arched in the opposite direction than she’d been sitting, making her back and hips pop loudly in the quiet of the morning. That started rousing the kids, most of whom woke with a look of panic before remembering the night before. Cero quickly started speaking to them in Greek, talking in mollifying tones and with a gentle smile. They assumed she was telling them what was going on, and where they were going. Summer wished she would give them the same information. The girl on her lap woke with a start at all the noise, her grey eyes flying around the room before settling on Summer. 

“What’s happening?” she asked in a small voice. She sounded timid, but didn’t look away from Summer’s gaze. Summer was surprised to hear her speak German, markedly different from the kids around her. She supposed all the kids spoke multiple languages, though they probably didn’t know it. Usually Summer and Winter didn’t know they knew a language until someone started speaking it to them; so far, they knew at least eight, with Greek being the first one in a while that was unfamiliar. Summer took a deep breath, schooling her features back into something neutral and making sure her voice was quiet and even.

“I believe it’s time for breakfast.” she said. She only figured that because Cero had grabbed another crate and started breaking open smaller blue boxes inside, handing out a silver package to each child. It looked like the packages of freeze dried foods they used to get on missions, but when the nearest child opened his, she spotted some sort of pastry with brightly colored icing. The girl pushed herself up and slowly walked up to Cero, wringing her hands as she waited her turn. An older girl spotted her and handed her the unopened package in her hand, going back to Cero to get another one for herself. There was no dining table or chairs, nothing for the kids to circle around, but they grouped together anyway. They’d clearly been together for a significant time, and Summer wondered if Cero was going to keep it that way.

“Here.” Cero handed her a package. “It’s cheap, but it’s pretty tasty. Come on, Winter, one for you too.”

Winter was suspicious of the food and carefully opened the foil package, taking a sniff of what was inside and immediately grimacing. That piqued Summer’s interest, and she tore the package open herself to investigate. The smell of sugar and butter washed over her; it wasn’t the same as when they were in France, not nearly as fresh, but it smelled amazing nonetheless. She took a careful bite. The saccharine filling tasted nothing like a real strawberry, but she finished the tart and the other one in the package in a few short bites. 

“How can you eat that?” Winter asked quietly. He was holding his package out to her, one tart missing the tiniest bite on the corner. She took it from him gladly.

“You don’t like it?” she asked, already biting into the second serving. He made a vague face of disgust, shaking his head.

“Too sweet. I’ll find something else.” he said. He hesitated for a moment, caught watching as she blatantly enjoyed the sweet treat, before going to dig in the box from the night before for something else. She shrugged at his departure and went back to her treat; the sweetness didn’t bother her one bit. 

With food in their bellies and sunlight at the windows, the kids suddenly seemed much more at ease, and much more alive. They were starting to believe in the freedom Cero promised them, starting to hope that they really could escape. Summer wondered how long they had been with Nought, if any of them had known a life prior to it. The smallest child probably didn’t remember anything from before, much like Summer and Winter. Something fierce bubbled up inside her, and when she glanced at Winter she could see he was having the same thought. Cero shouldn’t have promised them success, but they would do anything to make sure she followed through with it. 

Summer stood, going straight to Cero and confronting her. “What is the plan?” she asked shortly in English, assuming none of the kids could speak it. She’d only given them vague ideas of what they were doing, but they couldn’t fly blind anymore. A retrieval mission was one thing. Transport was another thing entirely.

If Cero was startled by the question, she didn’t show it. She stood to her full height, trying to make the few inches between them seem smaller. “There’s a town in northern Bulgaria. Krushovitza. I have an old contact there that can help us get these kids safe and settled-”

Summer interrupted her by grabbing her by the neck and slamming her against the wall. The kids startled, but she didn’t care. Winter stepped closer to them, but didn’t intervene, despite Cero’s panicked look for help. “Bulgaria isn’t on the black map.” Summer seethed, using every ounce of control she had left not to crush the woman’s windpipe. Some of the kids were crying, and Summer knew that she was taking it too far, that she should have done this where they couldn’t see it, but it was too late now. And she was committed. 

“But Romania is!” Cero gasped out. “And it’s barely thirty kilometers away.”

Summer dropped her then, feeling no remorse as she rubbed at the red finger marks on her skin. “Bulgaria is gray. You’re protecting yourself, but not us.”

“I don’t give a fuck about myself at this point. It’s  _ them _ I’m worried about.” she said, gesturing to the kids. She glared with a fire she hadn’t shown before, seemingly over her fear of the two super soldiers. She sent it towards Winter too, just for good measure. “I’ve done some fucked up shit. And I’ll pay for that one day. But I’m not gonna sit by and let them go through the same things I did. They deserve  _ life _ .”

Summer felt something on her arm, and looked to see Winter’s hand on her wrist, pulling her back. He gave her a look that said Cero was right, though he wasn’t about to verbalize that. She sighed, turning back and trying her best to control her irritation. “Then what is the plan?” she said through gritted teeth. She could feel the eyes on the back of her head as the kids tried to figure out whether she was friend or foe. She didn’t trust herself to look back and console them. 

“We leave shortly. Take the train to Strymon Station. From there we’ll have to cross the border into Bulgaria.” she said.

“They’ll be patrolling the borders.” Winter interrupted. Hydra used border patrol as a training ground, where Winter was allowed to teach new recruits tracking and sighting by any method he chose. The job had given him what he knew now was anger, and he often took that out on the trainees.  _ What are you doing here? _ he always wanted to ask them. It always seemed wrong to have volunteers. Cero looked annoyed at his point.

“Yes, I’m aware of that, thank you.” she said, frustrated. “You’ll recall I’ve been doing this for a while now. I’m not green anymore. There’s a pass, below the mountains, that Nought doesn’t know about. I found it in some old Filiki Eteria texts. It’s tight, and dangerous, but it’s the best option.”

“So you want to take a public train. And then lead these children under a mountain. All while avoiding detection.” Winter deadpanned, making sure the details were right. Cero tried to look resolute, and nodded. Behind them, the kids were eerily silent. Winter and Summer shared a look and it was decided: they’d handled more difficult plans before. “Alright. Let’s pack up and go.”

Summer moved on his command, both of them going to the supplies and pretending they didn’t hear Cero heave a sigh of relief as they did. She started talking to the children in Greek again, directing them to backpacks and instructing them on what to pack. The smallest child, the one that had spoken in German earlier, simply followed along with the older kids. Summer reckoned she understood as much of the language as they did. 

There was a brief pain in her chest as she noted how quickly the kids moved, and how orderly they were. It was clear that, in their short time in captivity, training had already started. They stuffed their backpacks in the way Cero told them and slung them onto their backs, looking every bit the tiny soldiers that Nought was trying to make. Summer and Winter knew Hydra did the same thing; oftentimes, one or both of them was sent to train these kids. Most were scientifically made, in test tubes and amniotic chambers. But some had been taken from their families after some algorithm determined them to be of use. Summer remembered one particular girl, a blonde, that was kept under lock and key somewhere back in the States. They made her train the girl, but they often forgot to put her back under the ice. She’d started to slip, and tried to protect the girl from...something, she couldn’t quite remember what. They’d shipped her back to Siberia after that.

Summer couldn’t save that girl. Or any of the others. But maybe they could save these kids. 

The kids dropped any humor they’d had that morning after breakfast, and moved quickly just like the night before. It wasn’t a long walk to the train station, which was probably part of the plan from the very beginning. Cero passed out tickets, purchased one at a time over the past six months, and made sure the kids knew exactly where to stand, how to look, and how to keep an eye out for anyone suspicious. They finally split up then, each soldier taking a part of the group and spreading out at the station, though Winter refused to let Summer out of his eyesight. He hated to admit it, but he would leave the kids in less than a heartbeat if he needed to save her. 

They could feel the familiar buzz of a mission on their skin, their enhanced vision brightening and focusing. They analyzed every corner, every movement, every person that walked by, searching for a threat. The clock seemed to tick slower and slower as their departure time approached, increasing their wariness. 

“You need to chill.” Cero appeared at his side, her gaggle of kids still on the bench where she left them. “You look like you’re planning a hostage situation.”

“Might, if the situation calls for it.” he muttered back. This time she rolled her eyes, understanding that his comment was at least part sarcasm.

“Security’s starting to notice. So check your face.” she said, getting up and going back where she was before. She moved through the crowd with ease, the people barely noticing her. Winter was never good at that. He had never been the subtle one; Summer was always the one with a more delicate touch. He could stand to learn a few things from her.

He looked across the station and found Summer without trying, despite the constant ebb and flow of the crowd. She actually looked casual, her eyes soft as she scanned the area lazily. The only thing that gave away her readiness was the tapping of her finger on the back of the bench, her palm likely itching for a firearm. The smallest child sat on her lap, looking around with wide eyes as she tried to take all the new things at once. Winter saw her say something, looking up at Summer. Summer briefly looked down as she answered the question, then returned to her surveillance. The girl, satisfied with the answer, leaned against her chest and continued watching the world around her. Old memories swirled in his brain, pictures of Summer as she entertained small children. None of them stayed long enough for the vision to stick, but he could feel the sentiment behind them. Once upon a time, she would have been a great mother. And perhaps he would have been a good father. And Hydra took that chance away from them. 

For a long time, Hydra had been a fact of life. There was nothing before it, and nothing after it. But now, the more his brain healed itself, the angrier he got. He wanted to track down every last one of them and slaughter them before burning the bunkers to the ground. He had not been the most apologetic person prior to the serum, and what they did only amplified that, just like it amplified his loyalty, his sharpshooting skills, and his strategic mind. That last one was the only thing that kept him from raising all holy hell: there was no way he could take the organization down alone, and he was not going to ask Summer to do it either - not because he thought she would refuse, but because he knew she wouldn’t.

The mission jitters decreased only slightly when the train arrived at their platform and they started boarding one by one. Cero had managed to get them all in the same coach, with the seats spread out. She sat in the middle, while Summer and Winter sat on either end, closest to the doors. A smart move - it ensured that the enhanced soldiers would be the first to meet any opponent, and also kept her out of the action. The kids could converge on her if they needed while Summer and Winter fought them off. 

Finally the train started pulling from the station, and Winter nearly broke the armrest squeezing it as he waited for something - anything - to go wrong. This mission was already going too smoothly, which either meant that Cero actually was a master planner and strategist, or Nought was just biding their time to recapture them. 

The longer the train went, the more they were able to relax. The open Greek countryside didn’t allow for many hiding places, so if anyone were to attack the train, they’d see them coming a mile away. The kids were rowdy at first, chatting excitedly to each other and the people around them as they saw farmlife and mountains and the small cities they passed, but soon they settled, most of them succumbing to the exhaustion that accompanies a drop in adrenaline and falling asleep. Cero, Summer, and Winter kept their eyes out the windows. 

The buzzing came back as the station came into view. They gently woke the kids around them, and once again they all fell into their own tiny version of mission mode. The heaviness of the situation had settled on them, and even without telling them they knew this was a pivotal moment. It was impossible to check everything as they pulled in to the platform, and Winter willed his face into a calm facade as they stopped and the doors slid open. He got up first, leading his group of kids out and towards the waiting sunlight. It was just past two in the afternoon, and the kids were probably hungry, but none of them complained as they weaved through the crowd and finally into the open air. 

Summer thought it was too obvious for them all to walk as a group, but Cero wouldn’t hear about splitting up. She moved through the streets as if she’d lived there her whole life, making her wonder how many times the other woman visited this place and mapped it out before this day. It made her feel terribly conspicuous to walk in the middle of the day, impossible to move with a group this size without drawing at least a little attention. But then she looked around and realized they passed other groups of kids, most of them with adults, and all of them sporting backpacks.  _ School _ . She’d timed it so that they would be walking at the same time the students would be going home. 

Perhaps they could give Cero a little more credit. 

They made it to the edge of the town without incident, though the kids started slowing down and having a little more trouble staying focused on the task at hand. Cero did her best to encourage them to keep going, with Winter and Summer adding their own nods and gestures, but even that wasn’t putting enough wind in their sails. Summer jogged to the front to walk next to Cero, ignoring the vexed look on her face.

“They’re hungry.” Summer pointed out. It seemed odd that she was the first one to notice this and not Cero. After all, if it was just her and Winter, they would just push through until nightfall, and probably even beyond that. She could feel that spot between her shoulder blades, as if someone had a sight trained on her, but knew that they couldn’t hurry if the children ran out of energy.

“I’m aware.” Cero said without changing her stride. At the end of the line, Winter carried the smallest girl, her face scrunched and red in silent cries from hunger and fatigue. Winter kept his face blank, awkwardly patting her back as she sobbed into his chest.

“We need to stop. They’ll only go slower.” Summer said, trying to make her see reason. Cero shook her head.

“Do you see any cover for us? We’ll be sitting ducks.” she seethed, a bit snappier than usual. Perhaps she was tired and hungry too. Summer glanced around, finding an old house with a shack in the back, a huge tree shading the area behind it. 

“There.” she said, gesturing towards it. Cero looked and almost immediately rolled her eyes.

“Good luck spotting anyone under there. The leaves will kill our visibility.” she said. Summer shrugged; part of her wanted to be defensive, but if Cero was too fatigued to see that of course she thought of that contingency, then she wouldn’t antagonize her.

“So you hide and rest. Winter and I will post up there and there to keep watch.” she replied, pointing to two rooftops. The houses were odd enough shapes that they could move without being seen, and also have good vantage points. Cero clenched her jaw; she didn’t want to admit that Summer was right for some reason. Summer was just trying to make sure the mission didn’t go belly up. 

“Fine.” she finally said. She turned and started talking to the kids, and Summer gave Winter a few signs to let him know the plan before going to the closest house and silently getting on the roof. By the time she got settled with her short arm out, Winter was already in position, and the kids were already tucked under the tree, apparently moving a little quicker when the possibility of food was live. 

For the few minutes, it was nice to be alone. Summer hadn’t really had a moment to herself since walking away. When it was just her and Winter, it was fine. Winter felt like another part of herself, just separate from her body. But after being surrounded by so many people, even if they were children, it was good to hear the silence and breathe. She caught a glimpse of Winter as he patrolled opposite of her, and maybe it was her imagination but he looked happy to have the moment as well. They could handle a few days without food or water, but being surrounded by people on all sides for extended time was more difficult. Sure, they’d been on missions with others before, but this was different. These weren’t soldiers. And if they did their job right, they never would be. 

With a few minutes off their feet and some food in their stomachs, the kids were ready to keep going. They turned out of the neighborhood and saw the mountains in the distance, their blue hue beckoning them with promise of cover. The sun was starting to descend and the temperature with it; if they wanted a safe place to make camp, they needed to get to those mountains before night fell. 

Their size was deceiving, making them seem closer than they were, and the sun was kissing the horizon before they actually started making it to the rocky terrain. The kids were all exhausted, their feet dragging and making them trip on the uneven ground. Winter’s quick reflexes had to catch more than one shirttail before the kid could tumble to the ground, and that’s when they knew it was time to stop. Cero pushed them on for just a short while longer, leading them to a cave she’d obviously found before all this. 

“Is this where the pass is?” Summer asked. In her mind, they just needed to tell the kids how close they were, then they’d be willing to keep going. Unfortunately, Cero shook her head.

“It’s a bit of a climb to it.” she said, pulling out supplies to build a fire. “We’ll have to wait until tomorrow, it’s too dangerous in the dark.”

“The fire will be too conspicuous.” Winter said, eyeing her as she gathered kindling and formed it into a neat pile.

“No fire means the smaller kids freeze to death tonight.” she said without looking up. Winter bit back a retort; she was right, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. He moved back towards the path they’d used, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sort of threat. The cave would hide them from anyone in a helicopter or using binoculars, but a fire would not. Summer moved into position next to him, following his lead.

“You’re not sleeping tonight.” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“No.” he replied. He shook his head. “Something’s wrong. It’s been too easy.”

“Knock on wood.” she said instantly, startling both of them. She didn’t know where that phrase came from, she just knew that it applied here. Winter gave her an odd look before slowly reaching to the ground, tapping his knuckles against a stick there. His eyes held a question. She ignored it. “I’ll stay up with you.” she said. She didn’t want to be in the middle of the children tonight. She needed to be out with Winter, doing her job.

“Good.” he said, looking back out the way they came.

Was it her, or did he sound a little relieved?


	31. Water - November 2, 1943

**Chapter 31: Water**

**November 2, 1943**

It was cold the next morning, which was  _ almost _ a welcome change from the stale, hot air that they’d been living in for the past four weeks. It was certainly welcome for their skin, which was unexpectedly red and tight in some places where they’d gotten too close to the fire. Bucky was surprised to find himself awake before Lu, and even more surprised to find her curled up in a ball right next to him, her back against his torso and her head on his arm. Her fingers lightly rested on his palm, which he only knew because he leaned up to see if she was awake - his arm was numb from her sleeping on it for who knows how long. He couldn’t find it in himself to mind. 

He took a quick glance around the makeshift camp. The light was just barely starting, the black tree trunks and gray ground finding their colors again as the night retreated. Most of the men were still asleep and Steve was nowhere in sight. He knew that was something that he needed to address momentarily, but this may be the only chance he got to show any affection without the entire unit seeing them and making Lu uncomfortable. She’d been frugal with her affections before their confessions the night before, and if he was honest he wasn’t sure how liberal she’d be with them afterwards. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure that the night before hadn’t just been a fever dream. 

He shifted a little closer, putting his arm around Lu’s waist and pulling her to his chest. She startled and stiffened at first, but before he could let go she put her hand on his and kept him there, squeezing back as much as she could. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, just enough that she could feel it through her shirt. In response, she pressed her lips to his arm, feather light on his disgusting sleeve.

“You know,” she said quietly, still facing away from him. He wondered if she didn’t want to look him in the eyes. “we won’t be able to wake up like this once we get back.”

“We were prisoners of war. We burned down a Nazi bunker. Who’s allowed to tell us what to do?” he murmured into her tangled hair. She gave a dry laugh that turned into a cough, the sound so worrying that he didn’t even realize she was clutching his hand to her chest as she tried to hold herself together. “You good?”

“That hurt.” she replied with a sigh, her body going limp as if all her energy was spent from that one cough. He felt pain in his chest at her statement, though it had nothing to do with smoke damage. They’d gotten out of the bunker, and somehow it seemed unfair that she still had to be in pain. He held her for a moment longer before she gently wriggled from his grasp, and despite wanting to maintain the closeness, he gave her space. 

“Where are we going?” he asked, purposefully saying  _ we _ instead of  _ you _ . He was not going to let her out of his sight if he could help it. He moved too quickly to match her sitting position, his head swimming with the sudden change. She finally looked at him and self consciously ran a hand through her hair, but at the first snare of tangles, she gave up trying to tame it. 

“I need to find Morita.” she said, taking a breath so deep he could hear some of the joints in her ribs pop. He raised an eyebrow.

“I confess my undying love to you last night, and the first thing you want to do this morning is find another man?” he asked, pretending that he was joking instead of feeling marked jealousy and insecurity. She sent a wry smile over her shoulder, and while she thought about making a snide comment in return, she decided to try and be decent for once.

“You’ve got me, Barnes. Don’t question it.” she said, the most affectionate thing she could come up with. It still made her uncomfortable to share her feelings, even with someone as trustworthy as Bucky. He gave her a smile, reaching out to squeeze her hand one more time before following her lead and getting up.

“Love you too, Doc.” he said quietly. He wasn’t ashamed of his feelings, but after spending literally every moment surrounded by the unit, he wanted to keep this thing between them a little private, a little secret. Sure, maybe Steve knew, but he didn’t count. 

Lu gave him a rare genuine smile, her sharp features softening as she gazed at him for a second longer before starting to move, going to check the nearby soldiers and make sure they were medically sound enough for travel. Steve wandered back then, coming to stand next to Bucky. He looked up at the man that he used to know - and that he used to look  _ down _ to.

“Yea, this is even weirder in the light of day.” he said, making Steve laugh.

“You’ll get used to it, I promise.” he said with a smirk, knocking him with his shoulder. Bucky found he rebounded a little more than when he gave the gesture as a kid. This was going to take a  _ lot  _ of getting used to. 

“So this isn’t a pumpkin at midnight situation?” he asked. He knew he’d questioned the permanence of Steve’s state the night before, but between the injection and the adrenaline, the memories were a little hazy. Steve gave him a grin that was entirely too satisfied.

“Not yet. Before it goes, I want a rematch from that day in the gym.” he said. Bucky snorted, remembering the hot summer day where Steve had been determined to learn boxing, suiting up and getting in the ring with Bucky. All it had taken was a light hit to the chest to put him down, but Bucky had soothed the embarrassment by apologizing with an ice cream float afterwards. 

“I just spent God knows how long as a prisoner of war, Rogers.” he said dryly, unable to hide the mischief in his eyes. “Maybe you can keep up now.” 

Steve grinned, shaking his head. “Same old punk.” he muttered under his breath, turning his eyes to the troops in front of him. They were getting up slowly, and in the morning light they could see how their uniforms hung loosely on them, and how their bones seemed more prominent than they should be. Every single one of them had a layer of panic behind their eyes, the degree of it the only thing differentiating their gazes. These men had been through hell - and they were the ones to live. He didn’t want to think about the ones that hadn’t made it, the ones that he’d been too slow to save. “We’ve got a long trek ahead of us. And our supplies are limited.” he said instead, looking back to Bucky. Bucky stood up a little taller, tugging at the waistband of his pants so that it hung a little higher, though they slid down almost immediately. He’d have to put another hole in his belt before they left. 

“Then we better get a move on. We...these guys need help. Medical attention probably.” he said. Across the meager camp, Lu was waging the same battle with her pants, trying to get them to stay in place as she crouched to check on the soldiers. He would fix her belt first, then his own. He wondered if she looked as pale to the rest of them as she did to him, or if he was just more attuned because of his feelings. 

Steve nodded, clapping a hand to Bucky’s shoulder. “You’ll be my second in command, right? No use being a captain if I don’t have a sergeant.” Bucky glared at him out of the corner of his eye.

“I don’t like the attitude this science experiment gave you.” he said, bending down to pick up the rifle and sling the strap across his chest, his hands ready to bring the sight to his eye at a moment’s notice. He moved away, offering a hand to the nearest soldier and helping him to his feet.

“That wasn’t a ‘no’!” Steve called after him, relishing in having his friend back before following his lead. 

Clouds and smoke laced the sky, making the light just dim enough for it to feel eerie as they started walking south. Gusts of wind brought unidentifiable smells from the direction of the destroyed bunker, making each man clench his teeth and take quick looks back to make sure the Nazis weren’t chasing them, ready to swallow them back into the dungeon. Their progress was slow but steady, their boots crunching on sticks and dead leaves with an almost jazz-like rhythm. Steve led the way, but Bucky was right next to him, with Lu at his shoulder. There had been light conversation at first, but as the miles started to pile up they got quiet, focusing their energy on the road ahead. Steve of course felt fine, but Bucky and Lu had to concentrate on each step, using every ounce of brain power to stay upright. 

The clouds hid the sun from their eyes, but Steve’s pocket watch told them it was just past two somewhere in the world (he’d forgotten what time zone he’d adjusted it to last), meaning they’d been walking for at least six hours. Morita jogged to the front then, his expression worried and his breath a little shorter than it should have been for such a short distance.

“We taking a break soon?” he asked, trying to hide the heaving of his chest as he tried to catch up on oxygen. He jerked his head back behind them, towards the group of soldiers. “We’re starting to get some stragglers, even with the tanks.”

Steve stopped, the rest of the men coming to a halt in a wave. They could hear the questions as they passed from the back to the front and then back again as the men tried to figure out what was going on, but Steve didn’t address them. He seemed to be listening, his head inclined towards the trees. He was still using his “good ear,” but Bucky had a feeling it was more out of habit than ability. Bucky lifted his head too, tilting it so that it matched Steve’s direction; if he ignored the murmurs from the men, then he could barely hear the rush of something between the trees.

“Water’s that way.” Steve said, taking off that direction. Bucky followed him, furrowing his brows. The men moved like a herd of cattle behind them, the message getting relayed all the way to the back of the group. The water sounded louder the closer they got to it, but Bucky had the feeling that most of the men still couldn’t sense it. Just him and Steve.

“You could hear it too?” Lu asked quietly. Though she was still pale, her steps were sure in the direction of the river. So  _ three _ of them heard it.

“Yea. Or maybe it was just my imagination.” he said with a shrug. There shouldn’t have been a reason for him to be able to hear it like Steve. At least, he didn’t want to think about there being a reason.

“Guess we share an imagination then.” she said, making him glance over to her. He was surprised to find her looking at him, green eyes piercing. His mouth went dry, both at how she was looking at him and at what she was implying.

“What the fuck did they do to us, Doc?” he whispered. Her lips parted as she took in a sharp breath, the air getting caught in her chest and making her cough again. This time it wasn’t as violent, as if her lungs were healing already. 

“I don’t know Barnes.” she said once the spell passed. “And I’m not sure I want to.”

He sighed, turning his attention to the terrain as the river finally came into view. It was small, but it was flowing, and it carried the water they would need to last the trip. Sure, they were malnourished and in desperate need of a few good meals, but without water they would definitely die. After all they went through, Bucky refused to die from dehydration. 

“We need to purify it.” Lu pointed out, though she seemed relieved to have found a water source.    


“I’ll go see if the tanks have anything.” Steve said as men started to gather. A few moved quickly to the riverbank, getting on their knees and cupping their hands to drink. Morita and Lu yelled to them to stop, to wait, but the thirstier men couldn’t be dissuaded. Lu took a few quick breaths, trying to gather the energy to help, but Bucky stopped her with a hand on the small of her back.

“Take a load off, Doc. I got it.” he said, even if he just wanted to sit down and not get up for at least a week. Her expression sharpened, back to the face she used when working in the field hospital.

“I’m fine, Barnes.” she said, as if he couldn’t see her swaying slightly as she stayed standing, or feel her lean into his touch with a slight loss of balance.

“I know you are. But we’re gonna need you sooner or later, so you should save up for that.” he said. They shared a long look before Lu relented, taking his hand and slowly lowering herself to the ground. Morita, being a medic and having a pledge to “do no harm,” tried to convince the soldiers to stop drinking with strong words and gentle tugs. Bucky had made no such oath, and was content to grab them by the backs of their shirts and use his bodyweight to throw them away from the water. They protested at first, of course, but then they realized who they were talking to, and begrudgingly followed orders. Bucky still didn’t consider himself a real sergeant, but he was happy to have the stripes for moments like this. 

Dugan and Steve came back, each holding a large half-sphere that could double as a bowl and a gun stand that could double as a stove. It looked suspiciously like a cover of some sort, but beggars couldn’t exactly be choosers. Gabe and Falsworth immediately moved to start making fires, and the action of the plan made the last few soldiers at the water’s edge stop and step away. A few of them looked nervous now that they were back in their right mind, remembering all the facts about germs and cholera that the Army had thrown at them during training. A few of them wandered into the trees, making themselves vomit the water up in hopes of avoiding disease. Bucky just hoped it would be good enough; they’d lost enough people, he didn’t want to lose any more. 

An hour later they had clean enough drinking water, the cool air helping the temperature drop from boiling to manageable. Bucky hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until the water touched his lips, and despite the odd taste and the questionable tin cup, he gulped it down as if it was the sweetest ambrosia of the gods. The second cup went too fast, causing him to choke and heave and nearly lose what he’d just ingested. Lu thumped him on the back to clear his airway, her hand sharp on the bones of his spine and ribs. Of course, he got to return the favor a few moments later, though he tried to make his smacks a little gentler. 

They spent another hour filling any available container in the tanks with boiled water, glad to have the machines to carry it so they didn’t have to. And, if they were able to bring enough water with them, they wouldn’t have to waste time sanitizing it again. Bucky could tell Steve was getting antsy to keep moving, but it only took one look at the ragged men around him to extinguish his impatience. Once they’d had their fill and the men were as rested as they were going to be, they continued on. 

It was nothing but gumption that kept them going through the afternoon, the clouds eventually burning away to reveal a cold winter sun. As long as the wind wasn’t blowing they could manage the temperatures, but once the sun started its descent the temperature followed, their breaths rising in puffs into the bruise colored sky. Lu’s breathing was definitely labored, and his own legs felt like they were filled with lead. It was then Bucky noticed the expression on Steve’s face, and realized that he was planning to go through the night.

“We gotta stop, Steve.” he said, putting his hand on his arm. Steve startled, looking around as if he didn’t realize how much time had passed. The men behind them stumbled as they walked, their steps uneven and their faces long with exhaustion. Steve looked at each of them in turn, as if memorizing each of them.

“Right, yea, you’re right.” he said. He looked like he hadn’t felt the walk at all. “Let’s set up camp. We’ll be up again at first light.”

“I’ll take watch.” Bucky said, adjusting cold fingers on his rifle. Steve waved him off.

“You need to rest. I’ll take it.” he said.

“You didn’t sleep last night.”

“I also wasn’t held in a bunker for a month.”

“Listen I don’t care what they gave you, you still need sleep-”

“I told you I’m  _ fine _ -”

“You’re still  _ human _ -”

“I said I’m fine, Buck!” Steve exclaimed, letting out the frustration of being debilitated for his entire life. Bucky was surprised at the outburst; Steve definitely called him out on his bullshit, but they rarely raised their voices at each other. Steve’s eyes were bright in the moonlight, but Bucky could see the tell-tale signs of his fatigue. Even though his body was perfectly engineered now, he still shifted away from his bad hip out of habit, his shoulders slumping slightly to shy away from the pain spinal stenosis used to give him. 

“You got us out, Steve.” Lu said quietly, the feminine voice of reason breaking the harsh stares between them. “We can hold it together for a couple hours while you take a break.”

Steve had never been good at saying no to Bucky, and he was even worse at saying no to women. He looked between the two of them, trying to decide if it was worth it to fight back. In the end he decided against it. “Alright. But the minute you get tired, you wake me.” he said, using an authoritarian voice Bucky had never heard before. It made him roll his eyes.

“Aye, aye, Captain.” he said with a mock salute. Steve bristled but didn’t comment, instead walking away to oversee the others making camp. Lu slid her hand into the nook of Bucky’s elbow, her touch gentle in a way he rarely got to experience.

“You okay?” she asked. She knew how much Steve meant to Bucky, but there would definitely be a shift in their relationship now, something they would have to adjust to. Bucky nodded and sighed in a way that would make his passive aggressive grandmother proud.

“Yea, yea it’s fine. He wasn’t good at knowing his limitations back when he had a whole laundry list of problems. Now that he doesn’t have that excuse, he’ll be even worse.” he said, shaking his head. He pulled her closer to him, laying a kiss to the top of her head before putting a respectable space between them again. “You don’t have to stay up with me. I’ll be okay.”

“I know you will be. But I still want to.” she said with a shrug. It occurred to him that this might be her way of saying she wanted to spend time with him, even if she couldn’t verbalize it exactly. She looked up at him again and pinched his arm, reminding him of the subtle show of fondness. He nodded again. 

“Then it’s you and me against the world.” he said with as flirty a grin he could manage. It was a terrible line but she blushed anyway, neither used to this sort of attention nor her desire for it. 

“You and me, Barnes.” she said, trying to return the smile. It only made his grow.

“That’s my last name. You want it?” he said. She assumed he was just harkening back to their meeting in the med tent, back when he was delirious with fever. She pouted and pinched his arm again, this time hard enough to make him jump and pull back, allowing her to walk away towards an outcropping of rocks that would make for a good lookout point. He let out a long breath as he watched her go, murmuring to himself, “I was serious.”

“You look like a lovesick puppy.” Steve snuck back up on him, making him jump again.

“Jesus fucking Christ, don’t ever do that again.” Bucky said, landing a half-hearted punch on the other man’s shoulder. The way he was grinning said that their short quarrel was forgiven, just like any one they’d had before. And just like the others, it was immediately forgotten. “God as my witness I’ll haunt the shit out of you if I survived a Nazi bunker just to die from a heart attack.”

“Hydra.” Steve said. The answer didn’t make sense, and Bucky made sure his facial expression told him as such. “They weren’t just Nazis. They’re a rogue science division, calling themselves Hydra.”

“Of fucking course they do.” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “How bad is it?”

“Not sure yet. I’m hoping Agent Carter will have some more information by the time we get back.” he said. “But they’re something we need to take care of. And the Allies can’t spread their resources that thin.”

That seemed an odd statement to make. “So they’re not a priority from the Army?” he asked.

“They are. And they aren’t.” Steve said, letting out a frustrated breath. “I’ve been talking with Agent Carter some, and I think...well, I figure the other boys can handle the Nazis. But it takes a weird science experiment to beat another weird science experiment.”

“So now  _ you _ want to go rogue. To take them down.” Bucky deadpanned. He wasn’t even surprised. Of course the moment Steve got super powers, he’d want to go take on every bully in a continent-sized radius. Steve laughed, but it wasn’t entirely humorous.

“If they let me.” he finally admitted. “So far I’ve just been helping raise money for the cause. This is, uh, my first  _ actual _ mission.” 

Bucky blinked at him a few times, trying to decide if he actually heard what he thought he did. “You’re incorrigible.” he said, shaking his head. “Go lay down and think about what you’ve done. Me and Doc got watch.”

“Just make sure you watch for enemies and don’t just watch each other.” Steve said, again with the shit eating grin. 

“Fuck off, Rogers. Go sleep. Clearly you’re delirious.” Bucky said. Steve clapped him on the shoulder, the same familiar smile on his face.

“Good to have you back, buddy.” he said. Bucky knocked his hand off his shoulder.

“Yea yea yea. Just wait until I get some food in me. Then I’ll kick your ass for coming on your first mission by yourself.” he said. He didn’t give Steve time to reply, instead stepping over the sprawled out bodies on the ground and joining Lu at the rocks. Most of the camp had laid down to rest with a few of the guys up at a fire nearby, probably too nervous to sleep just yet. He could see Dugan’s bowler hat, and Gabe’s dark skin reflecting in the firelight, and maybe Morita with his makeshift med kit next to him. He took Lu’s hand, leading her up. She moved as if her muscles were made of concrete.

“Where are we going?” she asked. He nodded towards the other guys.

“It’s cold. You need to stay warm.” he said.

“So do you.” she said, though she still allowed him to pull her over to the fire. He gave her a furtive, conspiratory look.

“Well yea, but I have to look tough. You’re my way out.” he said. That made her laugh quietly, and this time she didn’t end up coughing. 

“You kids joining?” Dugan called as they got closer. Before they could answer the men started shifting, making sure that there was room for the two of them to sit next to each other. Lu thought to say that it wasn’t necessary for them to be tied at the hip, but thought it might draw even more attention to their bond if she protested too much. 

“For a minute, if you don’t mind. We’ve got first watch.” Bucky said, helping Lu down before joining her on the ground. He still held the rifle, handling it carefully and making sure the muzzle was pointed away from everyone, especially since he wasn’t about to turn on the safety just yet. Morita found two cup-like things, filling them with water and handing them over. 

“We’re playing ‘I’ve never’.” he said. For a moment Bucky’s blood ran cold, remembering how he and Lu had stayed alive playing drinking games - and how it had inflamed Mullens before he died. His tongue got stuck in his mouth, and luckily Lu was there to speak up for him.

“Seems like the point of the game is the opposite to what we want.” she said, taking a sip of her water regardless. Morita shrugged, and from across the fire Gabe answered.

“We’re following the rules very loosely.” he said with a shrug. Bucky and Lu shared a look; perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to allow a distraction. The men looked tired, but they kept their eyes up, playing the game with little fanfare and a few chuckles. Across the camp, Steve was asleep sitting up against a tree, his fists clenched in his sleep as if he thought he’d have to wake up fighting. Bucky decided to keep that in mind when it came time to switch. 

For all her bravado, Lu was the first to lose to her exhaustion, her head and body leaning just right against Bucky so she didn’t fall over. His back started to hurt after a while, but he endured the pain, wanting to give her this time to rest. One by one the men around the fire gave in until Bucky was the only one left, the camp quiet around him except for the steady hum of breathing and a few unintelligible mutters coming from places unseen. Soon the sounds around him and the warmth of the fire and Lu’s body started to lull him; he could stay up later if he had to, but damn did he want to sleep. He shifted for the first time in a couple hours, his back popping and Lu waking up immediately, looking around for an emergency.

“Wha - Barnes?” she asked, her hand finding his and gripping tightly. He held it, and tenderly put his other hand on her cheek.

“Hey, you’re okay. It’s okay.” he whispered as she took a few deep, noticeably clear breaths. The men closest to them snored and moved, but somehow stayed asleep. “I just gotta go wake up Steve. It’s his turn.”

She nodded, coming back to herself. “Come back?” she asked, for a moment sounding the most vulnerable that he’d ever heard her. His heart swelled, and he leaned a little closer, nuzzling her nose with his. 

“Always.” he whispered against her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed, and he moved to gently kiss her. Just like before, it was as easy and familiar as breathing. When he opened his eyes, her cheeks were flushed in the firelight, and she gave him such a tender look that his breath almost caught in his chest. He knew he loved her, but now he realized that he was in deep, past the point of any sort of return. He planted his lips on her forehead before going to wake Steve, wondering how in the hell he was going to go to sleep now.

Turns out, his body remembered how tired he was, and with his best friend standing guard and his best girl holding his hand, he was finally able to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry i didn't update last weekend, life kind of got ahead of me. and unfortunately i won't be able to update for the next 1-2 weeks because of travel. but i hope y'all liked this chapter! please let me know what you thought!


	32. Rock - October 20, 2014

**Chapter 32: Rock**

**October 20, 2014**

Dawn was still hours away, but Summer and Winter sat as alert as ever, back to back on a large rock so that one of them could watch down the mountain, and the other up it. The cave was loud with the sounds of children sleeping, the open air making them fidget and murmur, as if it was easier for them to be in the tight basement from the first night rather than out in the open like this. Perhaps they never had slept out in the open, Summer thought, her enhanced vision allowing her to see the vague grimaces on most of the children’s faces, and how their hands clutched at the thin blankets. Or perhaps, like Summer and Winter, they knew that the danger was only growing as time went on.

“Air tastes wrong.” Winter murmured, his voice vibrating against her back. Having him close helped to ground her and keep her focused; no matter what happened, she could get out of it if she had him. 

“Mhmm.” she hummed in return, nodding her head even though he wasn’t facing her. The edges of her ponytail, now fully blonde again, tickled the skin exposed by the collar of his shirt. She too could feel the subtle shift in the world around them, the one that said something was amiss. She closed her eyes, not to rest, but to focus her senses. She quieted her breathing and shifted away from Winter, decreasing the amount of sensory input her body was receiving at the moment. He was perfectly still behind her, more than likely doing the same thing. Cero was asleep at the mouth of the cave, but even if she was awake, she would not be able to sense things in the way they could. And if they waited for morning light…

“South.” they said to each other at the same time, Summer jumping up and turning to face the same way Winter was. They couldn’t see the aircraft, but they could barely hear it, barely feel the beating through the air as the blades turned in the dark. It was a very quiet chopper, but not quiet enough, and the  _ whump-uh-tah-whump-uh-tah  _ rhythm gave away that this was not a Hydra vessel.

Winter pulled up his rifle with the night vision scope, seeing if he could spot anything on the ground. Would they only send an air strike? Or would they send ground forces too? They had to be ready for anything. Summer moved to Cero, roughly shoving her awake. Cero rolled out of the push and onto one knee, glaring at Summer with a knife already in her hand.

“Okay, what the fuck was that for?” she asked, irate. In another life, Summer might have spat back a brassy retort, but they were in this life, and she didn’t have time for that. Yet.

“Nought is on its way.” she said shortly. Cero’s eyes widened and her eyebrows rose, her gaze immediately going outside. But there were no lights that suggested tanks, and the sounds of the chopper hadn’t reached her human ears yet.

“You’re just hearing things.” she said, though she couldn’t hide the nervousness in her voice. She stood up, her grip on the knife growing tighter, though she wasn’t planning on threatening Summer.

“This is what you recruited us for.” Summer said shortly. “We need to move.” 

Cero let out a sigh. “You’re right.” She turned to the kids, talking a little louder than she needed to in order to rouse them from their sleep. Most of them seemed on the brink of consciousness anyways, their instincts catching on to what their brain could not. Only the smallest ones moved slowly, trying to rub the sleep from their eyes. The littlest girl didn’t want to let go of her blanket, clutching it in one hand and the hem of Cero’s shirt in the other. The woman spoke to her in soothing tones, gently running her hand over her hair despite the severity of their situation. The juxtaposition threw Summer for a loop as she remembered children she’d tried to save before, flashes of small kids with Polish accents begging in broken English for help, gold stars stitched onto their too-big shirts as they clutched the olive green tails of her uniform. Winter came to stand next to her, his hand barely touching her elbow. She wondered if he remembered those other kids too.

“We need to move.” she said again, somehow forcing the words through the tightness in her chest. Cero looked between the two of them and nodded, picking the girl up and resting her on her hip.

“It’ll be dangerous in the dark. We can’t risk too much light.” she said as the kids got up and organized. 

“Leave that to us.” Winter said quietly. His tone was gentle enough, but they could hear the order in it, and Summer had to agree. “Where is the pass?” 

Cero pulled out a map, its creases and corners worn as if it had been folded and refolded and stuffed into pockets a hundred times. She flipped it around as expertly as she could with a child in her arms, forming it into a square with the most important location visible. Winter glanced at it quickly before handing it over to Summer, who memorized it just as fast. They handed the map back to Cero, who looked at them once again as if she was wondering if they were really human. They weren’t sure they were either, but they weren’t about to tell her that.

“Let’s go.” Winter said, turning and striding off into the darkness. Summer followed him, not paying mind to the brief hesitation behind her. The sounds of feet filing after them were much quieter once they were out of the cave, and though the light would have been helpful for their footing, they were going to have to be okay with the quarter moon hanging high above them. 

“Tell them to step where I step.” Summer said, taking the lead ahead of Winter. When it came to strength and strategy, he was superior, but trekking through the wilderness was her expertise. She heard Cero translate the message, and then they were off.

They quickly realized why Cero recommended waiting until morning to go up the mountain. The going was even slower than they anticipated, the children struggling with the darkness and the uneven terrain. Summer had to take smaller steps than usual, allowing them to reach the same places she did and keep steady. But to their credit, the children did not cry or complain. In fact, they were eerily silent, as if they knew that this was the moment that was going to make or break this mission. 

The further up they went, the slower they had to move, with rocks often loosening and tumbling down the vague trail that Summer found. It was likely some sort of animal trail, but it hadn’t been used in a long time, and its borders were foggy at best. But they started moving with a renewed sense of purpose once the helicopter was close enough that they could hear it, Winter dropping to the back in order to be the first line of defense. The youngest child was back in Cero’s arms, as carrying her was easier than trying to get her tiny body to move the way it needed to. The inky black sky was just starting to turn grey in the pre-dawn when they saw it, the great matte beast moving through the sky with slow and steady precision, almost lazy in its pursuit. Summer stopped to watch for a moment, her eyes flicking to Winter to find him already looking at her, and likely already thinking the same thing. Nought knew  _ exactly _ where they were.

“We’re close.” Cero said, interrupting their thoughts. They could see her fingers flexing as she tried not to grip onto the child too hard, her muscles trembling as she tried not to rush the kids that were doing the best they could.

“They’ll catch up.” Summer replied, matter of fact. She realized a moment too late that she probably should not have said it so loud, and was glad that none of the kids seemed to speak English. 

“Well yea, especially if we don’t move.” Cero said through clenched teeth. Summer glanced back to Winter, who shrugged. They would just have to cross that bridge when they came to it. Summer didn’t bother responding, instead just going back to the climb. Cero was partially right - they were, as the crow flies, very close to their destination - but this would be the steepest and most difficult part. At least now there was a little more light than the moon, allowing the kids to see more than just dark and darker shapes on the mountainside. 

Summer stopped as they reached a literal wall. She could see the cliff ten feet above them, and at the back end of the cliff, a dark pass that was barely more than a crack in the rock. She sighed heavily; of  _ course _ that was where they were going. 

“I’ll climb up.” Cero said, putting the little girl on her back. “Boost the kids up to me.”

“You’re not strong enough.” Summer pointed out. The chopper was close enough now that she had to raise her voice to be heard. 

“I’ll be fine. I need you two down here.” she said, and Summer could see why. The cliff face was not big enough for the chopper to land, or for any forces to drop to reliably. Above them, there was nothing waiting for soldiers except unsteady footholds and a quick trip down. They would have to come up the same way they did, and at the top, they would meet the soldiers. Summer let out another sigh but found herself nodding, placing her hands so that she could help Cero to the cliff edge. With surprising strength she grabbed the rocks and, despite the child on her back, pulled herself up. She gave rapid instructions in Greek and the girl disappeared into the pass. Cero didn’t give her a second glance; instead, she was reaching down, waiting for the next child. 

The chopper shone lights on them as Summer started all but throwing the kids up onto the ledge, gritting her teeth as she willed them all to move faster. They were halfway through the group, but they needed all of them into the shelter of the rocks in case the enemy opened fire. They assumed Nought had the same philosophy that Hydra did - if they could not have their assets, then no one else could either. Summer was not going to let more innocent people die on her watch. 

With three kids left to go, the chopper idled above them, the lights blinding and the blades sending gales across them. Small rocks flew in the wind, landing small lacerations over any exposed skin. The kids cried out as they hit them, but kept moving, as if they knew that the tiny rocks were going to be followed by very big, very deadly bullets. With two kids left, thick black ropes snaked their way down from the chopper, soldiers in the same uniform Cero was wearing poised at the top. Winter actually threw the last kid up, the force knocking him and Cero to the ground as she caught him. The soldiers were sliding down the ropes now, weapons trained on the three of them. Summer forgot about Cero and the kids, and instead focused on the enemy in front of her. 

Winter opened fire on them, drawing their attention even though his bullets bounced uselessly off their reinforced uniforms. That was alright, he could land a kill shot if he needed to once they were down. Right now, they just had to draw the enemies out of their hiding spot and away from their target. Summer scrambled halfway up the cliffside before leaping, but instead of aiming up, she aimed away, tackling the first soldier midair and sending both of them careening into a second one. They tried to grapple with her, but she was too close for any weapons to be effective, and her objective was not to try and kill them. Yet.

One hand grabbed a rope, and the other found the carabiner holding the first soldier to it. With expert precision she unlocked it, her super strength making it easy to rip it from its hold. The man yelled as he plummeted towards the ground, landing hard on his back. The second soldier had just enough time to take note of what happened to his fellow before Summer was on him and giving him the same treatment, sending him down to the waiting Winter below them. He made quick work of them with a knife under their chins, blood splattering over the metal hand. The helicopter swung around, trying to get a visual on their new targets as well as shake Summer from where she was climbing up the rope. She shifted with it, using the momentum to take her back towards the mountainside. At the right moment, she let go, sailing through the air and landing easily on the rock. Winter was at her side in an instant, both of them realizing the same thing at the same time.

The landing was bigger than they thought it was. And Summer had just given them a grand idea. 

“Into the tunnel.” Winter said gruffly, and Summer didn’t need to be told twice. She pulled her pistol from her waistband and moved quickly into the tight space, giving Winter enough room to get in with her. The walls were barely wide enough for him to stand, and even then the rocks squealed as his metal shoulder rubbed against them. They couldn’t not run from this, otherwise they’d be fish in a barrel. They had to fight. 

Luckily, they’d been in this situation before. Many times.

Summer kneeled down, making herself as small a target as possible. Winter did the same, but shifted sideways so that his metal arm could be used as a shield. A shield - didn’t they have one of those at some point? No matter. 

The first soldier swung too high, giving Winter the perfect view of the underside of his chin as he flew towards them. One well timed and well aimed shot and the man fell limp, dropping to the edge of the cliff like a bloody sack of potatoes before sliding off to join his comrades below. The second soldier’s jump was true, and he was able to land with a running start, his gun pointed towards them. Winter shot at his hand before he could shoot at them, the gun falling from his grip. However, he kept running, pulling a knife and continuing his attack. He swung the knife with amazing speed, but he would never be faster than Winter, who threw up his left arm to block the stab. The knife sparked as it hit the metal, and the man paused and looked at them with surprise.

“I’d heard you two were out of the game.” he said, but Winter didn’t care what he had to say. He cared more about the three other soldiers following him. “There’s a pretty bounty - AURGH!”

Winter had disarmed him and grabbed his helmet with his metal hand, the gears in it whirring loudly as he squeezed and crushed through the helmet and into the man’s skull. The prosthesis could not sense the wetness of his blood as it poured out, it only noted the softness of his brain matter, and the weight as his body went limp. The men behind him were opening fire, but the dead soldier was an excellent shield, if not a little gruesome. He waited patiently until the men behind him were in a good position, and when their shots lulled for a second as they realized what was going on, he grunted and used his whole body to throw the dead soldier forward, the weight of him taking him and all three of his comrades over the edge. 

“Let’s go.” he said to Summer, but her eyes weren’t on him, or on the blood all over his uniform. They were on a man in the chopper. He wasn’t pursuing them, or aiming a weapon at them. No, he was just leaning against the open door, watching them. As he turned away, she could barely see the glint of the red octopus pin on his shirt. Her blood ran cold, and for a moment she was rooted to the spot, her body frozen as fear settled into her core. Hydra was here? Hydra had found them? “Summer!” 

“Yes, sir.” she said, snapping out of her nightmare. The helicopter was moving around again, this time to point the larger guns on board towards them. Summer moved into the darkness without hesitation, not caring if the rocks bit into her skin and tore at her clothes. Winter was right behind her, grunting as he tried to fit his larger body through the small space. If she was struggling to get through it, she was surprised that he was managing at all. Bullets ricocheted all around the entrance, some of them whizzing by their ears and landing hard in the rock. Summer kept her head down and her feet fast; all they had to do was get out of range and not lose an eye, and then they’d be clear onto the grey map. Nought couldn’t touch them. 

But she knew what she’d seen. Hydra knew now that they were helping Cero, and knew where they were going. It wouldn’t be hard to piece together their plan to go to Romania. Her mind began whirring, trying to think of alternate routes and alternate plans. The only good thing was that Hydra knew they couldn’t send just any team to take them out; they would have to take time to gather resources from all over the world. That would give them at least a couple days.

They finally made it deep enough into the mountainside that the bullets stopped, allowing them to rest and catch their breath. The sound of the helicopter grew fainter and fainter as it flew away; whether or not it would actually stop pursuing Cero or not remained to be seen, but they were at least safe for now. The tunnel was silent except for their breathing, and Summer figured the kids must be much further ahead of them, probably finding it much easier to squeeze through the tight spaces than her or Winter.

“Did you see him?” she whispered. Even at her lowest volume, her voice still felt deafening in the tight pass, her muscles seizing as if the man from the helicopter could hear her if she spoke too loudly. Winter took a shuddering breath, the only sign to show that he was just as scared as she was by the sight.

“Yes.” he whispered back. His eyes were fierce in the low light of the tunnel, and once again he seemed more like a wild animal trapped in a cage. She didn’t have to see herself to know that her expression mirrored his. She felt her heart in her throat, her veins once again turning to ice.

“We can’t go back.” she said, shaking her head painfully as the muscles in her neck spasmed. “We can’t, Winter, we can’t-”

“We  _ won’t _ .” he said sharply, reaching out and roughly pulling her to him. Her hip banged painfully into a rock but she didn’t care. She grasped him like he was her last lifeline, trying and failing to catch her breath in the tight space. He was shaking in her arms, holding her a little too tightly than was comfortable. They fell against the rocky wall, the only thing solid enough to keep them standing as the panic rolled over them in waves. They’d known, every moment since they walked away, that they were at risk of getting found out. But until today, they hadn’t realized how thin the line they walked was. One misjudgement, one wrong step, and they would fall back into the hell of Hydra. 

They stayed that way for a long time, clutching each other and the cave wall in an effort to ground themselves. Winter was the first to calm down and stop shaking, his breath evening out as a plan formed in his head. Then, to further soothe himself, he thought of another one, and another. They could leave Cero if they needed to - she was safe now, behind borders that Nought agreed never to cross. She and those kids didn’t matter anymore. The only one that mattered was the woman in his arms. 

He pushed off the wall, firmly planting Summer on her feet. She took a deep breath and held it, squeezing her eyes and his arms until she could finally get herself under control. When she opened her eyes again, she still looked afraid, but she also looked ready to do what she needed.

“We’re not going back.” Winter said, his voice echoing off the nearby rocks. It sounded dramatically loud, which almost helped at that point. “We’re not going back.”

“We’re not going back.” she agreed with a nod. “We’re done.”

“They don’t get us anymore.”

“They don’t. We’re free.” she said, staring at him with all the trust a partner could have - and a little something else that he hadn’t seen on her face in a long time. He didn’t dare try to place it. Instead he cupped her cheek, remembering too late that his hand was covered in blood. She didn’t seem to mind, especially when he leaned into her and kissed her. It was a little rough but she didn’t care, it reminded her of what they meant to each other, and what exactly they were fighting for. 

“We’re free.” he reiterated when he pulled away. He missed her lips immediately, but now was not the time. Soon, they would be in Romania, and every day he could kiss her and show her how he cared for her - but right now, they had to keep going.

She had a much easier time going through the tunnel than he did, as made evident by the various grunts and muttered curses that she heard from behind her as they moved. Every once in a while his metal arm would grate loudly against the stone wall, causing shards of rock to rain down onto the floor, making a sound like the mountain was giggling at him. The further in they went, the tighter it got, and the more the rocks laughed and Winter cursed, and before she knew it, the panic from earlier was forgotten, and Summer could feel amusement bubbling in her chest. A particularly loud scrape sounded through the tunnel, and she became acutely aware that Winter was no longer moving along with her. 

“Fuck a duck.” Winter muttered, making Summer turn to look at him. 

“What…” she trailed off as the took in the sight. He had raised his arms above his head in an effort to make his chest slimmer during a particularly cramped section of the tunnel, but he hadn’t accounted for the rock above him and his bicep had completely wedged itself between the two sides. He looked, decidedly, unamused. She couldn't help it, and let out a snort of laughter before she realized what she was doing.

“It’s not funny.” he said darkly, which only served to make another laugh break free of her chest.

“No. It’s not.” she said, the laughter bubbling up into her voice. 

“Stop it.” he said, though the statement didn’t have the bite of an order. 

“I’m not laughing.” she replied. She was. 

He gave her the angriest, winteriest look that he could manage, but it did not dissuade her, and it took longer than she cared to admit to stifle her giggles. She went up to him, leaning in close and taking a look at the situation. He put his other arm around her waist, just barely, to stabilize her as she smacked the metal arm with a broad hand. Thanks to her super strength, it popped free of its prison, allowing him to hold her close once again.

“You’re pretty when you laugh.” he murmured, making her breath catch in her throat. He leaned his forehead against hers. They almost felt somewhere within the realm of normal - or as normal as they could get.

“You should try it sometime. You could be pretty too.” she replied, the sarcasm falling flat. When was the last time someone called her pretty? Some of the doctors did, but they did it in a demeaning way, like she was a thing to put on display. Winter said it with feeling, as if she were precious. It made her remember how they fell in love all those years ago, and reminded her how this was the closest thing to love either of them was going to get. He let out a sigh, nuzzling her for a moment longer before pushing her away.

“Smartass.” he said, taking care to put his arm in a good place this time. She sent a grin over her shoulder, not bothering to come up with a response before taking the lead. 

Hydra may be closing in, but they were still moving forward.


	33. Scare - November 4, 1943

**Chapter 33: Scare**

**November 4, 1943**

The trek was long, and slow, and cold. 

The chill had been nice at first, making Lu feel like the Earth herself was reinvigorating her, pumping her full of oxygen after she’d suffered the dungeons. But by the third morning, the cold had settled into her bones, making her grit her teeth to keep them from chattering and stuff her hands under her arms to keep them from turning blue. Bucky, the asshole, seemed to be completely fine, so of course she also pretended to be completely fine, no matter how feverish or weak she felt. 

It was easy to distract herself during the walk with stories from Steve. He was all too happy to tell her tales about his youth with Bucky, especially once she tempted him with some of the shenanigans Bucky had shared in the cages. Steve had to tell his side of the story, which usually matched up more to the original version than he probably thought. Bucky pretended to be annoyed, but she could see the smile on his face and the glint in his eye as he bantered with his friend, and she found herself wondering what it was like to be that close with someone. She’d had friends before, but none as close as Steve and Bucky. She always kept a wall up, knowing when she was younger that she didn’t want to stay in Hemmingsburg and didn’t want to be tied to it. Then, once Pearl happened, she was too afraid to lose someone. 

“Don’t think so hard. You’ll hurt yourself.” Bucky said, tapping the spot between her eyebrows where her forehead wrinkled. “What’s the matter?”

“Wondering how the universe survived with you two knuckleheads growing up together.” she deadpanned, making both men laugh, though Steve’s was a little more robust. Bucky was getting tired too, but he was going to push as long as the others could. 

“I wasn’t as energetic as a kid.” Steve said, still grinning. Bucky rolled his eyes, letting out a scoff.

“Bull shit. You had plenty of energy, you just didn’t have a body that could keep up with it. And you couldn’t hold yourself in a fight.” he said. Steve raised an eyebrow, letting out an incredulous laugh.

“Well,  _ now _ look who’s the damsel in distress.” he said, waving his hand vaguely to refer to their situation. Bucky looked like he was going to get mad for a moment, but ended up smiling. He had a point.

“Hey, if you’re gonna wait this long to pull me out of a mess for once instead of the other way around, I’ll settle for the one time I get held captive by a rogue science division.” he said lightly. Steve gestured widely once again.

“Exactly. You did just fine all those other times, I waited until you  _ really _ needed the help.” he replied. Bucky clapped him on the shoulder, his brows twitching ever so slightly as the muscle bulk surprised him.

“You’re a man of honor, Steve Rogers.” he said. Steve glanced at Lu just slightly, a mischievous look on his face.

“Thought it was called the best man in a wedding. But I’ll take man of honor if that’s what you guys need.” he said, making Lu choke on the water she was drinking and Bucky’s face go slack. The response, of course, only led to Steve laughing at his own joke, loud enough that the soldiers behind them perked up to see what was going on. Lu could feel her cheeks burning at the insinuation, and was glad when Bucky finally opened his mouth, recovered enough to respond.

“That’s up to her.” he said, surprising her and making Lu actually squawk in surprise. Now  _ both _ of them were giving her a shit eating grin, and the heat in her cheeks spread to the top of her neck. They both started laughing, Barnes putting his arm around her and pulling her close, just for a moment. She roughly pushed him away, crossing her arms and trying to glare at both of them at the same time.

“You two are insufferable.” she said through clenched teeth, ignoring how her heart was hammering against her ribs at the thought of marriage, especially to Bucky. She didn’t hate the idea. In fact, she found herself rather fond of it. But she wasn’t going to admit that to him, at least not yet. 

“And yet, you love us.” Bucky grinned, and she was mad that she couldn’t even say she didn’t, because she’d already told him that she did, in fact, love him. She’d said many mean things in her life, and she was sure she would say many more in the future, but she wasn’t going to let Bucky ever hear that she didn’t love him. 

“Consider yourself lucky for it.” she mumbled, sounding every bit the petulant teenager that her emotions made her feel. She’d never felt this way about anyone before; she knew that this was how she was  _ supposed _ to feel about George, how everyone  _ wanted _ her to feel about George, but he was never more than a friend. Bucky was much, much more than that. 

“Trust me. I do.” he said. She could feel him grinning at her, and after a brief glance over his shoulder, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of her head before putting respectable distance between them again. She didn’t think her blush could get any deeper but her body continued to surprise her, making her feel even more feverish than she did before. Steve and Bucky went back to their teasing, leaving her to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. They’d been walking forever it felt like, but as the sun passed its highest point, Steve picked up the pace a little more. 

“We’re almost there.” he said, and Lu certainly hoped it was true. Not only could she not maintain this pace for an extended period of time, she wasn’t sure she could continue on for much longer in general. Something was warring inside her body but she didn’t let herself think about it; she had the feeling that it had actually given out a long time ago, but something beyond moxie was making it continue. Her lungs were aching, her legs were numb, and the edges of her vision started getting blurry, and then dark. But Steve said they were close, so she kept going. 

The final ridge felt like climbing a mountain, and through the cotton that seemed to be stuck in her ears she could hear the sounds of an Army camp - the yelling, the marching, and the clatter of transport vehicles. The soldier on lookout called as soon as he spotted them, the energy of the camp shifting as the message passed through it. Steve and Bucky both straightened up as the other soldiers came into sight, their steps fast and sure as if they hadn’t just walked all those miles from a Hydra base, and in Bucky’s case, after a month of torture. She swayed as they stopped, nearly running into the men in front of her and then nearly falling over as she tried to slow her progression. A woman with perfectly curled hair and startling red lipstick met them at the front of the gate, giving Steve a look of shock and amazement. Lu couldn’t hear what they were saying; it felt like her head was under water. Bucky called something out, but she couldn’t understand him, and when he looked back at her with a dazzling smile, she figured this wasn’t such a bad view before she died. Then the darkness closed in, and she collapsed. 

Bucky immediately dropped his smile. “Doc?” he asked, trying to catch her as she fell. “Doc!” The men around him were still clapping and celebrating, the joy of their return outweighing the pain of what they’d been through. His legs gave out as he took on her entire weight, and at best he was just able to control their descent to the ground. Steve glanced away from the woman in uniform to see them, his face dropping as he took in the sight. Lu was deathly pale, the blue of her veins showing through her skin. Bucky shook her slightly, calling her name and begging her to open her eyes, but she remained still.

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” a feminine voice called over the voices of the soldiers, her tone almost shrill. “Excuse - move!” Angela finally pushed through to see them, her big brown eyes taking in everything at once. She’d changed in the past month, both physically (a touch too thin) and professionally; Bucky expected her to flounder, or stammer, or perhaps faint as well. But she clenched her jaw and sank to one knee, her hand going to Lu’s neck. “She’s still got a pulse. But we need to get her to the physician.” she said, angling herself so her arms were under Lu’s shoulders and attempting to stand with a grunt. Steve stepped in, not caring how close he got to Angela in order to pick Lu up, his science-given muscles easily able to handle the weight. Bucky scrambled to his feet, pissed that once again Lu was suffering, and all he could do was sit here and watch. 

“Tell me where to go.” Steve said. People were still trying to get close to him, trying to pat him on the back and tell him  _ thank you for the rescue _ . But his eyes were on Angela and his focus on Lu, the younger woman nodding and setting off at an impressive pace to the hospital tent. Nurses were running around frantically, trying to prepare to triage a hundred men, and be ready to care for them all. The main physician, who already looked worn and weathered, was shouting instructions and delegating tasks. Bucky briefly flinched, remembering the doctor that had snuck into the Army just so he could find subjects for Hydra. If this man even looked at them funny, he was going to get a knife to the throat.

“Dr. Alpert!” Angela called. Her voice was still shrill, but it was loud, and commanded just enough attention for the man to stop barking orders and look their way. His heavy eyebrows buried themselves behind the thick frames of his glasses as Steve put Lu on a bed, Bucky making sure that she would be comfortable when she woke up. “She’s one of ours, she got taken-”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Dr. Alpert said impatiently, though how he knew Bucky couldn’t say. He threw one more order over his shoulder before weaving his way to them, grabbing a pair of gloves from a side cart as a nurse pushed it by. “Pulse?”

“Tachycardic.” Angela answered quickly. Bucky was surprised - when did she have time to count the beats? “Thready at the wrist.” she added as Dr. Alpert pulled out a stethoscope, putting the bell of it all over Lu’s chest without any care for propriety. Bucky felt a jealous, overprotective growl sound low in his throat, but luckily no one could hear it over the chaos of the tent. No one except for Steve, of course, who looked back and put a heavy hand on Bucky’s shoulder. It took him a couple breaths to calm enough to be civil, though he still couldn’t bring himself to trust the man. He was glad to have Steve there, knowing he would be in their corner if they needed. And if he could break them out of a bunker, he could certainly take on a handsy doctor. 

“Decreased breath sounds on the right. Get me a hypodermic needle, nurse.” he said. Angela didn’t even bother nodding, only running to the supply closet while the doctor began unbuttoning the loose shirt covering Lu.

“Whoa whoa whoa, what are you doing?!” Bucky exclaimed, half glad and half angry that Steve caught him around the chest before he could punch the doctor in the face. The doctor neither flinched nor stopped what he was doing.

“My job.” he said, opening the shirt and pushing one side of it away, leaving Lu nearly exposed except for the dirty, worn fabric of her brassiere. Every rib showed, exposing the extent of her malnourishment that was previously hidden by the loose clothing. Bucky could feel his cheeks heating, but whether it was from anger or chagrin for her he didn’t know. Angela returned shortly, handing the doctor a large needle with a cap on the end of it. She wiped Lu’s ribs with alcohol while the doctor pressed his fingers to them, counting them. He was pressing so hard Bucky was afraid he would break them. “You might want to look away for this.” 

“Fuck that.” Bucky said roughly, earning another shove from Steve to put some space between them. The doctor shrugged, not giving him another moment of chance before plunging the business end of the needle between two of Lu’s ribs. His heart dropped to his shoes, his body freezing as he saw how much of the needle disappeared into her skin. Surely a needle going that deep would kill her, right? Why was the doctor  _ killing _ her?

Just when Bucky was about to descend into a spiral of rage and despair, Lu took a deep, rattling breath, her green eyes fluttering open as she gulped down gasp after gasp. He sagged into Steve, the relief so profound he could feel his heart ache and the prickle of tears behind his eyes. When he finally got his feet under him, all he could do was move close enough to grab Lu’s hand in both of his, leaning his forehead against it as he thanked a God he wasn’t sure he believed in that she was still with him. Her hand flexed slightly, her other one eventually coming to rest on the back of his head. His hair was dirty and matted, but she didn’t care. She was just glad that when she’d woken up again, Bucky was still with her. 

“Sergeant Barnes, you need to get checked out too.” Angela said softly, laying a gentle hand on his back. He shook his head without looking up, trying his best to hold back the tears. A few leaked out against his will, falling onto the crisp, white sheet. 

“I’m okay.” he said, the words unconvincing even to his own ears. 

“At the very least, you need fluids. Come on, I’ll put a chair right next to her.” she said, trying to tug him away. As the adrenaline started fading he could hear the emotion in her voice, and he realized he was being quite selfish. Angela had just gotten her dear friend back, and here he was, keeping her from tending to her. And yet, he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go.

“You can see everyone else first. I’ll be right here.” he said, this time with a little more control. He squeezed Lu’s hand again, and when she squeezed back it was a little stronger than the time before.

“Barnes.” she said, her voice raspy. He looked up so fast his head spun for a second, and all he could focus on was the green of her eyes. Slowly, the rest of the world started coming back into view: the soldiers filing in, the nurses getting them organized, Angela standing next to them, and Steve behind him, with a hand still on his shoulder. Lu was looking right at him. “Listen to your nurse.”

If any of them noticed he’d been crying, they didn’t comment on it. He leaned against her hand once more, if only to have a way to slyly wipe his face on the sheet. “Yes, ma’am.” he choked out, standing up again but refusing to let go of her. Angela already had a chair for him, but his body didn’t really want to move.

“Pitter patter, Buck. She’s got a lot to do.” Steve said, adding just enough umph to his voice to make the soldier in Bucky snap to attention at the order. He was right, Bucky needed to get it together so that Angela could go and help the men that actually needed her. He dropped into the chair, still holding Lu’s hand and her gaze as Angela wiped their arms with alcohol and connected them to two hanging bags, trying to rehydrate them. As she left, Steve started shifting food to foot, as if he had ants in his pants or something.

“Go on. Do what you need to do.” Bucky said, looking up at him with as much of a smile as he could manage. Steve put his hands on his belt, leveling him with a serious look.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” he asked, though Bucky knew it was just due to their relationship. Anyone else, he would have taken it as permission for leave. Which was precisely what he was going for.

“I’m sure you’ve got a lot of explaining to do to that brunette. And later, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do  _ about _ that brunette.” he said, trying to put a little bit of innuendo in his tone. Turns out the muscles and the height didn’t change Steve’s affinity for embarrassment, the ends of his ears turning slightly pink.

“Punk. Holler if you need anything.” he said, patting his back roughly. He laid a gentle hand on Lu’s shoulder. “Get better, Doc.”

“Not you too.” Lu groaned, making Steve grin. He gave them a half-assed salute before striding out of the tent, no doubt going to make either a report or amends for his actions. The hospital tent still bustled with activity as soldiers and nurses went to work, but it was all background noise to them. Bucky scooted his chair closer so she didn’t have to raise her head to see him; her color was much better now, and her breathing stronger. 

“How’s the other side?” he asked, trying to joke like he hadn’t just had a breakdown a few minutes prior. One corner of her mouth lifted in a smile; if anyone could appreciate the gallows humor, it was her. 

“Dark. Quiet. I could finally rest.” she said. She still spoke quietly, but it didn’t sound strained. He still couldn’t get the picture of her chest out of his head, how every bone showed, and how she was struggling to do something as simple as breathing. When had it started? Had she even felt it? Were there other things they needed to worry about now?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he chose to ask, running his thumb over the back of her hand. She swallowed thickly, her tongue briefly darting out to wet her dry lips. Next moment he got, he’d find her a cup of water.

“What would you have done? Carried me?” she asked. Near death experience? She could get over that. She’d had one before. But admitting that she needed help? Not allowed.

“Absolutely not. I would’ve made Steve do it.” he said with a grin, both of them knowing he would do no such thing. He brought her hand up, laying his lips against it for a long moment. “You scared me, you know.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but ended up just sighing. Now was not the time for banter, not when a man like him was openly showing how much he cared for her. “I’m sorry.” she said, and she meant it. 

“Damn well better be.” he said, though there was no sting in the words. “Look, I know you’re a badass that survived all sorts of shit before you met me but...I’ve got your back, Lu. We get through shit together, you get that, right?”

“I’m starting to.” she replied, somehow choking the words out around her heart in her throat. She wanted to tell him that she cared too, that he was special to her, that she’d never felt anything like she did for him. But those words got stuck, and all she could do was tug his hand to her mouth, hoping that the kiss she gave it would somehow imprint all that into his skin. 

“You and me, Doc.” he said quietly. She nodded.

“You and me against the world.” she said with a smile.

“Please don’t scare me like that again.” he requested.

“I’ll do my best, but shit happens.” she replied, her logical brain taking over and responding instead of allowing her heart to get a word in edgewise for once. He gave her an unamused look.

“Watch your mouth.” he said, moving to knock on the wood of the table. However, his motion was interrupted by her saying,

“Watch it yourself.” Even she looked surprised at the flirtation, and for a second he almost forgot to knock off the demons before looking at her with a devilish grin.

“Don’t be a tease, Doc.” he said, though he did move even closer to her. She didn’t move away.

“I could say the same for you.” she replied, her voice barely a whisper and her breath dancing across his chin. He took a quick, cursory glance around the hospital before leaning down and pressing his lips to hers. It was just the same as the first - sweet, and deep, and ushering in a feeling of safety and contentment. Kisses like these weren’t meant for one night; they were meant for a lifetime.

He didn’t say anything as he pulled back, just settling back into his chair as Lu shifted to get more comfortable. They shared a secret smile, two of them stuck in their own little bubble despite everything around them.

They were out. They’d made it.


	34. Tears - October 21, 2014

**Chapter 34: Tears**

**October 21, 2014**

It was supposed to be easy to leave. After the excitement of the morning before and spending the day hiking through the mountains, the kids (and the adults) were exhausted. Winter helped set up basecamp, made sure the perimeter was set with alarms, and volunteered to stay awake again as the sun dipped below the horizon. Summer went to sleep without question, which was the first sign that something was amiss. The excuse was weak: she would relieve Winter of his post when the moon reached its highest peak, so she needed to rest early. But everyone, including Cero, was too tired to question it. After a year of planning, she had the kids (those that were left) and she was across the line. Sure, she could never leave Bulgaria again, and the kids would be confined to these borders, but it was better than being confined to the cages and the restraint chairs and the shadow organization that dealt in death. 

Winter woke Summer at the predetermined time, nodding towards the best vantage point. What little gear they had was carefully packed and organized, as if they were prepared to flee at any moment. They were of course, but that was beside the point. Summer’s grip on her rifle was so tight that her hands threatened to cramp, and she could only relax them enough so that the handle stopped biting into her skin. She still sat erect, the area between her shoulders tense, and her eyes flicked at random over the landscape while her ears strained for any sign of approaching combatants. Despite the lightness of their conversation in the tunnel, reality set in with the setting of the sun. Hydra was on their tail, and now knew exactly where they were.

There had been no time for discussion yet, but that didn’t bother Summer. She knew that Winter had multiple plans at this point, and that if anything needed altering, they would do it on the fly. That was the only thing keeping her from panicking: the assumption that Hydra did not think that they could make decisions on their own. They’d been used as assets, machines that took in orders and spat out results. But now, the hold of the words was wearing off with every day that passed, meaning they could take all the skills and intel that Hydra had forced into them and use them to get away. They were no longer limited by the confines of their capture. 

It was not close enough to dawn when Summer moved to wake Winter, his eyes snapping open almost at the same time she touched his shoulder. He looked to her and she barely twitched her eyebrows in question; he thought for a moment before giving a nearly imperceptible nod. With nearly no sound he pushed himself up, the clicking of his metal arm dampened by a jacket that he’d put on before going to sleep. They gathered their supplies, checked their weapons, and made to move. 

They didn’t even make it to the tree line before they heard the sounds of someone stirring behind them. In their heads they knew they shouldn’t stop, knew that they needed to walk away before anyone could question it. But they both remembered the placement of the kids as they went to sleep, and recognized how light the footsteps were as the child followed them.

“Somme?” the littlest girl whispered, fear evident in her tiny voice. “Vinta?”

They both paused, looking at each other, trying to speak without saying anything. Summer widened her eyes, and Winter narrowed his. She tilted her head to the side, and he pinched his eyebrows together. She gave him one long, dramatic blink, and he clenched his jaw and let out a sigh, turning back to the girl. The girl - Summer still did not dare to learn her name - stood a few feet away from them, clutching her blanket and staring at them with wide eyes that seemed to glow in the moonlight. Perhaps they were actually glowing, Summer wasn’t going to look close enough to tell. Winter knelt in front of her, putting his large hand on her small shoulder.

“Go back to sleep, little one.” he said in German. The girl’s lower lip pouted, then began to tremble. He tried to not feel anxiety at the thought of a crying child. He tried in vain to look through his memories, but comforting techniques evaded him.

“Are you leaving?” she asked, squeaking slightly as she spoke. She was trying to keep her emotions in check, but her feelings were big and her body was small, and it was proving difficult. Summer looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat and instead focusing on the shadows in front of her while Winter dealt with this. 

“We must. To protect you.” he responded. His voice was low and to the point, but he slowed his words down because that was the only way he could think of to make it sound more gentle. The little girl’s face scrunched up, but before she could cry Winter pulled her close. To anyone else, it looked like a hug, but Summer knew that he was simply muffling her sobs with his shoulder, trying to prevent anyone else from waking and stopping their escape. She cried and cried, and Summer found her posture wavering, as if she could curl herself away from the girl’s sorrow and not be forced to hear it. Winter was right, them staying wasn’t safe - for anyone. But how could they make the child see that?

The seconds dragged until the girl’s sobs turned to hiccups, and then finally to sniffles. Winter continued to hold her tight until it all stopped, and Summer was finally able to stand up straight again. She didn’t dare turn around, not trusting whatever instinct was deep inside of her. Though she currently felt nothing but confusion when it came to children, she knew that she adored them in the past, and now was not the time to take the chance of her past self resurfacing. They needed to go. Now.

“Winter.” she said, her voice low and as commanding as she dared. He shifted behind her, putting some space between himself and the girl.

“Be safe, little one.” he said and, not knowing the right way to part from her, awkwardly patted her on the head. Later, he would just be glad he used his flesh hand instead of his metal one. The girl clutched at her blanket, her big eyes staring at them as Winter turned away, fully intending to walk away with Summer into the night.

Of course, one stops walking when one hears a gun cock behind them. 

“We had a deal.” Cero said, her voice tight and dangerous. Winter and Summer glanced at each other before he turned around, his face blank.

“We got you to Bulgaria. The children are safe.” he stated. Cero stood, the gun still trained on them.

“And how do you expect to get across the border without my help?” she said, her voice raising and causing more of the children to wake. They could hear the plastic of the gun squeak as she gripped it tightly, giving away her compromised emotions. They didn’t know if she feared for herself or for the children, but either way the answer was the same.

“We’ll find our own way.” Winter replied. He didn’t tell her that they weren’t planning to go straight to the border; in fact, going so close to it with the children was the worst thing they could do. Hydra assumed they would find a mission and stick to it, so now they had to change the mission. Cero’s breathing was shallow, her eyes flipping rapidly between the two of them as her mind struggled to find an answer to her problem.

“I’m not sure we can make it without your help.” she said, finally settling on the truth. Her words were heavy, but they did not weigh Winter down. He had carried much heavier things before.

“Call your contact. Arrange for transport.” he said in the same infuriatingly stoic voice. Even in the dim light, they could see Cero’s jaw clench.

“You’re making a mistake.” she said.

“We’re keeping you safe.” Summer cut in. Winter tried being cool and professional, but the heat of Summer’s fear and anger overcame it. “Hydra was on that helicopter. You want us as far away as possible now.” 

That gave Cero pause. “I hadn’t realized that.” she said quietly. She looked around to the kids, all of them sitting up and watching the exchange though most of them couldn’t understand it. Silence hung between them as the soldiers waited for her next comment, but it never came.

“Good luck.” Summer finally said, the words sounding harsher than she meant. Cero flinched at the tone and Summer thought about apologizing, but decided that an apology would open too many cracks. Instead she gave one last look at the smallest girl, gave her an encouraging nod, and turned on her heel to walk away. Behind her, Winter followed, his steps sure and nearly silent as they found the faint mountain trail. Neither one of them looked back.

Without the hindrance of the children their travel was much faster, which was the most soothing thing at that moment. They went east, towards the rising sun, and decidedly away from their original target destination. It felt wrong, to be going against the set mission, but they both understood the necessity, and their fear of recapture poured energy into their blood.

“We’ll go to Turkey.” Winter said, once the sun was up and the path was clear. “From there, we can take a ship. Get to Romania that way.”

“What if they’re watching the ports?” Summer asked. She stopped thinking about the children, instead looking forward. There was nothing she could do now. Their choice was the right one.

“Then we keep walking.” he said. “We’ll walk the entire Black Sea if we have to.”

“I’d walk the entire world at this point.” she muttered, tightening the straps on her backpack if only to give her hands something to do. He didn’t say anything, only nodding in agreement. The path started sloping downwards, and in the distance they could see as the mountains turned into hills, and as a road snaked between them. She felt exposed though the rocks provided ample cover, so she pulled a knife from its holster just to give herself something to fidget with as they walked. Flip it open, turn it over her fingers, snap it closed. Flip it open, turn it over her fingers, snap it closed. Flip it open-

“Stop.” Winter said, reaching out and grabbing the blade with his metal hand. He snapped it closed and stuck it in his own pocket, making her glare.

“I was using that.” she said.

“You were annoying me with that.” he replied. She felt herself stand a little straighter, her own annoyance bubbling up in her chest. He reached out his hand again, this time to take hers. “We’re going to make it. Save your energy for when we’ll need it, because we’re going to need it again.” 

There was no  _ probably _ , no  _ maybe _ . They knew when they walked away that it was going to be a fight. “Fine.” she said through gritted teeth, not quite ready to admit that he was right. She made to keep walking, but he held her in place, causing her to throw another glare his way. She wanted to snap at him, to pull her hand back and keep going, but her protests died in her throat when she saw his face.

“We’re going to make it.” he said, and she wanted so badly to believe him. But she also remembered the gaze of the man in the helicopter, looking at her without any shred of worry or surprise. 

“Just remember the promise we made.” she said. His lips parted slightly as his mind whirred, conjuring up the memory of that day in London. She didn’t let him say any more, tugging her hand away from him and continuing down the path. It took a few moments for him to start again, catching up to her in a few long strides. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to think that they’d held each other through the panic the night before and that they had a great plan to set them free. But in the back of her mind she knew that the risk was high, and the chance of failure even higher. They walked in silence after that. 

It was midday when they reached the road, sticking to the shelter of the trees as they followed it east. Eventually they would come across a car they could steal, or if all else failed they could obtain one as it passed. They didn’t stop for lunch, didn’t stop at all in fact, until their water bottles were empty and the mid-afternoon sun was beating down on their backs. 

“We need resources.” Winter pointed out. There were a few houses spaced around, surrounded by large patches of rolling green hills that were dotted with sheep. One of them was bound to have an unguarded well or spigot.

“We can keep going.” Summer replied, her pace not changing. Every time she blinked, she saw the red octopus pin staring at her, mocking her. They were officially on borrowed time.

“Summer.” he said sharply, stopping. 

“What?!” she asked, whirling around to face him. How was he so calm about this? How could he worry about resources when their enemy was just one step behind them? And how could she sleep last night, not realizing all of this?

“Why are you acting like this?” he asked. Direct. To the point. One of the things that made it so easy to work with him. And one of the things that made her feel so exposed when around him. 

“Because I’m scared.” she finally admitted. Weapons didn’t show fear. Assets were not afraid of anything. Hell, even when she was just a normal human, she probably would not have confessed that to him. But there were no secrets between them now, and hadn’t been in a long time.

“I know. So am I.” he said after a moment, still in that damn calm voice that he’d used with Cero. 

“Lie.” she snapped, regretting the word as soon as it left her lips. He took one quick step, grabbing her by her arms. She thought about trying to wrestle, trying to fight him, but it wasn’t really him that she was upset at, and she was beginning to understand that. He’d been using his mission voice, she realized. The one he used when shit was hitting the fan and they needed to act. The one where they might not make it out alive, so he shut off the rest of his brain.

“Can’t afford to act on fear.” he said, his tone quiet despite the fact that he was gripping her so tightly that he might leave bruises. She didn’t mind the pain - it almost helped her focus her mind. Running without a plan? She didn’t understand that. But pain? She always understood pain.

“Sorry.” she whispered. He shook his head.

“No apologies.” he whispered back. “The list is too long.”

He was right again, which almost made her angry. If they started apologizing to each other now for all the things Hydra made them do to each other, they’d die here in the middle of nowhere, mouths still forming around the words. If they stopped to worry about the past, they’d be frozen here, sitting ducks waiting for Hydra to come collect them again. Eventually she nodded.

“Yes, sir.” she said, making him shake his head again.

“No ‘sir’ anymore.” he said, making her take in a sharp breath. “You’ll never answer to another ‘sir’.”

“You can’t promise that.” the words barely made it out of her mouth, her chest felt so tight. 

“I can damn well try.” he replied. He gazed at her so intensely, so deeply, that she felt like he was looking at her very soul. Perhaps he was the only one that could see it. 

A motorcycle kick started, interrupting the moment and causing them both to draw weapons and point them in the direction of the sound. Five hundred yards away, a middle aged gentleman had started up his bike, gently rolling it to the front of the driveway. They holstered their weapons, watching as he turned his head back to the door, where a woman with greying hair was standing, gesturing towards him. He put down the kickstand, going back towards her. The bike was still running. 

They didn’t even have to communicate. A single glance, lasting no longer than half a second, and they took off sprinting through the trees. They flew like bats out of hell, as if the hounds of Hydra were at their heels, breaking through the tree line right at the point where the man was furthest from his bike. When they were thirty yards away, the woman pointed at them, recognizing what was happening. By the time the man had turned and started towards them, they were only fifteen yards away. Winter jumped on first, slamming his boot into the kickstand so hard the metal partially tore away from the bike. The back wheel was spinning in the gravel when Summer leapt onto it, taking a fistful of Winter’s shirt and holding onto the bike with her thighs as he tore out of the driveway and down the road. In the rearview mirror, they could see the man waving his arms, and even with their advanced hearing they couldn’t hear the curses he was screaming over the wind. This wasn’t assured freedom, but it sure as hell beat walking.

They were a hundred miles east when they saw the helicopter, so small in the distance that it was barely perceptible. Winter slowed the bike down, stopping in the middle of the street to watch it. It was circling the mountains, the matte black making it look like a raven looking for a landing point. They were searching for them, and both Summer and Winter waited for signs that they saw Cero or the kids.

“She got them to cover.” Winter said as the helicopter kept moving in a slow pattern, trying to find a target. Summer swallowed.

“It was right of us to leave.” she said, trying to convince herself as much as she was him. He didn’t nod, but she knew that he agreed.

“They’re well beyond the mountains now. Like us.” he said. His back was stiff under her fingers, his muscles trembling as he turned the bike away. Both of them wondered if they should turn back.

But in the end, they kept moving.


	35. Lean - November 15, 1943

**Chapter 35: Lean**

**November 15, 1943**

“Sergeant Barnes, you know you’re not supposed to be over here.” Nurse Barbara chided, sneaking her hand around Bucky’s elbow and tugging him away from the intensive care ward doors. He gave her his most charming grin, the one he used to use when trying to get girls to dance with him back in New York. It was a little rusty, which was probably the only reason the older woman was unimpressed.

“Now, Babs, I’m just taking a walk like the day shift nurse prescribed.” he said, turning with her and then continuing the move so they were going his original direction. Barbara was unperturbed, pulling him around again in a sick doe-see-doe.

“Yes, but you see I’ve noticed every time you walk this direction, you _ happen _ to walk by Nurse Peters’ room, and then you have a habit of falling asleep in there.” Barbara said, only a little sarcastic. She patted his arm sweetly, as if comforting a grandchild. She had plenty of practice with that - she’d told him she had twelve of them. “And I can’t have you soiling the reputation of one of our most highly decorated nurses.”

“Babs! Whatever are you implying?” he asked, finally letting her lead him back towards his room. He could just escape when she went on her smoke break at five till midnight. Barbara sent an icy glare over the rims of her glasses. 

“Just remember, Sergeant Barnes, I raised quite a few boys and even more girls. I know what’s going on up there.” she said, flicking the side of his head. He tried to swat her hand away, but she had surprising speed for an old woman. 

“She’s got a scar six inches long on her ribs-” 

“And how do _ you _ know how long the scar is?”

“-and I worry about her, you know? She gets the nightmares too-”

“Which you also shouldn’t know.”

“But I love her, Babs!”

“I know, Sergeant Barnes. And you can tell her that every day and every night as soon you’re discharged from the hospital.” Barbara concluded, patting his hand again. “But until that day, you need to stay in your room and let the poor woman heal.”

“She’s fine, they said that they didn’t find anything with the thoracotomy. And every day she’s getting better.” he said. Stubbornness may not have been his most attractive quality, but it was one of his more functional ones. Barbara glared at him again.

“And _ why _ were the doctors giving you information exactly?” she asked, a warning in her tone. Bucky decided to pretend he didn’t hear it.

“She was asleep for once. Like you said, she needs to rest.” he quipped, giving her that award winning smile again. She pinched his arm hard enough to leave a bruise, and held on so tight that he couldn’t wriggle out of her grasp. She held him like that, despite protest and bargaining and whining, until they reached his room on the opposite side of the hospital. Of course he didn’t share the real reason that he wanted to sleep in Lu’s room: when he slept in his own, he had dreams that they were back in the cages, and that he was awoken by her screams echoing through the bunker. He wanted to stay in her room so that when he woke up, he could see that she was okay, thoracotomy scar and all.

“Stay in your room, Sergeant Barnes.” Barbara said, letting go of him just so she could put her hands on her hips. For a woman that barely cleared five feet, she could certainly strike fear into a man. But then, some of her words from earlier sank in.

“Wait, so I can see her when I’m discharged?” he asked, trying and failing to hide the look of triumph on his face.

“Now that doesn’t-”

“Discharge me! I’m fine! See? Fit as a fiddle. Right as rain. C’mon, Babs, I’m gonna go crazy if you make me stay in here. Give this bed to someone who needs it!” he bartered, for once speaking only the truth. It was a good offer, he really _ did _ feel fine, but the only move Barbara made was to cross her arms over her chest. 

“_ You _ need that bed. Now lay down and go to sleep before I _ make _ you go to sleep.” she said, raising her eyebrows and staring at him with a look that said she’d put down many men before. He mirrored her pose, standing up straight and crossing his arms, glaring back at her with every ounce of ferocity that he could muster. But Barbara had been holding staring contests since before he was born, and had a winning record that any hall-of-famer would be jealous of. After a few long, tense minutes, he sighed in defeat, going to flop down on the bed. He decided not to show her how much the movement hurt. “Good. Now stay there. If I catch you in the intensive ward again, I’ll cuff you so hard your grandchildren will be born with a mark on their ear.”

“Love you too, Babs.” he deadpanned, staring at the ceiling and putting on a good show of sulking. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Barbara staring at him, finally stepping away once she was satisfied that he was staying put. Of course, as soon as he didn’t hear her footsteps anymore, he leapt out of bed, using a hand on the doorframe to swing out of the room faster.

And come face to face with Barbara.

“Bed, Sergeant!” she yelled sharply. Bucky bit back a groan, giving in and letting her shove him back into the room.

“Are you sure you’re not the sergeant here, Babs? You’ve got the voice down.” he said. As promised, a thwack was delivered to the back of his head, actually making him see stars for a moment. “Hey! Whoa! That’s patient abuse!” 

“Turn in a T.S. slip to the chaplain.” she said, shoving him to the bed. In his daze, he couldn’t really fight back. Huh. Perhaps he was a little less ‘fine’ than he thought. Tough Shit indeed.

“Alright, alright, I’ve learned my lesson.” he grumbled, this time getting under the blanket. Barbara thumped him on the ear for good measure.

“Damn right you did. Now stay put. I told you, if I find you in that girl’s room-”

“Right, right, grandchildren, ear, all that. But if you never let me in her room then I can’t give you grandchildren - AH. I WAS KIDDING.” Bucky tried to make a joke, but Barbara put an end to it. Instead of thumping his ear, this time she pinched it. Hard.

“Hush, Sergeant Barnes. You’ll wake Private Connors.” she said, sweet and serene and giving him a smile that would cause the Devil himself to break into a cold sweat. Bucky decided not to quip that Private Connors hadn’t awoken the entire week he’d been here, but instead squirmed until she finally let go. “Stay. In. Your. Room.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” he said, this time throwing a hand up in time to block her attack. She didn’t persist, instead giving him a firm look over her glasses before sauntering out of the room. Fine. That was fine. He could spend one night away from Lu. She’d be okay. Probably. Maybe? Probably. Definitely...Probably.

The bed was definitely more comfortable than the chair in her room, but that didn’t seem to help him rest any easier. Every creak and rustle on the hospital floor kept him from falling asleep, and he could hear Barbara and the other nurses with their sure, purposeful steps as they made their rounds. They often walked together, murmuring quietly about the dayshift gossip in an attempt to stay awake all night. Patients groaned and coughed, rusty bed springs creaking as they rolled over heavily. And someone’s goddamned IV pole was squeaking with every slow step they took down the hall.

“Barnes?” Lu whispered from the door, making him jolt out of the half-doze. In his annoyance, he hadn’t realized the wheels were coming closer to his room. He sat up, barely letting the blood come back to his head as he stumbled out of bed to her.

“Hey, alright?” he asked quickly, his voice just a touch too loud in the night. He glanced out into the hallway; no Barbara in sight. He put a supportive arm around Lu’s waist, guiding her inside. “Come on. Sit down.”

“Thanks.” she said. She still walked with a slight lean, favoring the side that got cut into a couple days before. After the quick needle procedure to release the excess air in her chest, the doctors had insisted they explore further and make sure there was no internal damage that needed addressing. Lu had completely agreed, knowing the protocol for the situation. But when they got in there everything was perfectly healed, as if she’d never had issues at all. So, they’d simply closed up the scar and left her to regain her strength.

“Was it another nightmare?” he asked as she sat on the edge of his bed. She shook her head no, looking down at the ground. He sat down next to her, looking for any sign of what was wrong. “Does it hurt?”

“A little. Not really.” she said, shaking her head again. “Just feels tight.” 

He looked for any clues on her face, but she wasn’t giving him anything more than furtive glances from beneath her blonde hair. He reached up to smooth it away from her face, one corner of his mouth lifting in a grin as she subconsciously leaned into his touch. “Ah, Doc. Did you miss me?” 

“Was worried Barbara finally got sick of your shit and threw you out the window.” she said, and even in the dim light from the moon through the window, he could see her cheeks color. He gave a dry laugh.

“I was put on house arrest. There were a lot of threats made, and a couple of them already followed through.” he explained. His smile dropped, his eyes going serious. “But I was still gonna find a way to get to you.”

“Sorry. Got impatient.” she said, gracing him with a small smile. He nodded, leaning forward to press his lips to her forehead. She leaned into him fully, his embrace much more comfortable than any bed or chair. “Are you tired?”

“I can stay up, if you want.” he whispered into her hair. He’d recovered from most of the exhaustion, but it still clung to him in the early morning hours. She shook her head.

“I’m tired too.” she said, almost sounding grateful. Bucky kissed her head again, then made to stand.

“Lay down, go to sleep. I’ve got the chair.” he said, wrapping his hand around the armrest in an attempt to pull it to the bedside. He stopped when he felt Lu’s hand on his arm.

“This is your bed. I can take the chair.” she said, trying to get up.

“Hell no. Get in that bed.” he said. “That’s an order.”

“I still outrank you.” she pointed out. He waved the comment off.

“Semantics. Come on, you gotta sleep.” he said, guiding her towards the bed again. She paused, holding his hands.

“Lay with me? Just for a few minutes?” she whispered, so softly that he could barely hear it. It wasn’t the first time they’d stolen a few moments to share a bed, and yet every time she acted like they were breaking a huge rule. Didn’t she see that they’d escaped death, and that the rules didn’t apply to them anymore?

“Of course.” he said, laying down with her. Questions about mores and beliefs and societal constructs of morality could wait for the morning. She curled up against him, still shifting around the incision on her ribs. Her breathing immediately settled as he held her. “Do you want me to rub your scar?”

“Barnes…” even at the lowest possible volume, she could still pack a warning into her voice. He felt her lashes brush the hollow of his throat as she opened her eyes again.

“No funny business, I promise.” he said softly. She hesitated for a moment, her lashes still tickling his skin as she thought. She silently moved her shirt, taking his hand and leading it up to the scar. He slowly found the edges of it, surprised to find no bandages, and no scabs. “It’s closed already.”

“Yea.” she said tightly. He could feel her heart pounding against her sternum.

“That seems...fast.” he murmured, his brows pinching together. 

“Yea.” she said again, gripping his shirt tightly. Just a couple days ago they’d sliced her open, but now it was already healing. Already _ healed _. Again he wondered what the hell they did to them back in that bunker; he’d been trying not to think about it, trying to just ignore the fact that most of the time he didn’t feel like he’d been tortured and kept captive for a month, but the idea grew in the back of his mind like a dark shadow. It wouldn’t stay there forever.

Lu was probably thinking the same thing, but neither of them spoke further about it. Instead, he just lightly massaged the puckered skin of her scar, rubbing tiny circles in one spot before moving on to the next one. It was slow and tedious, but he didn’t mind, especially when Lu sighed with relief as the tension decreased, and even moreso when her breathing evened out and she fully relaxed into his arms. Even then he kept up the motions, telling himself that when she woke up she wouldn’t feel the tightness anymore, and that she could breathe a little easier. 

Barbara of course came back around sometime in the wee hours of the morning, her eyes flashing in the low light. Bucky held a finger to his lips, not wanting to wake Lu. Barbara’s steps were quiet, but she marched over to him all the same, ready to unleash hell.

“Technically I’m not in _ her _ room.” he whispered. Lu stirred, murmuring a half-asleep _ hm? _ that he quieted with a kiss to the side of her head. Barbara definitely looked like she wanted to strangle him, but when her eyes drifted to Lu her gaze softened. That look was all Bucky needed to know that Lu hadn’t been sleeping at all on her own; like him, something just felt wrong about trying to sleep and not being near each other. Barbara heaved a mighty sigh, so passive aggressive that Lu mumbled again in her sleep, before turning on her heel and exiting the room. Bucky felt himself relax again, tucking Lu a little tighter before finally succumbing to sleep. 

He didn’t see Barbara again until the sun was starting to rise. It would be a bright and sunny day despite the season, the early rays already strong enough to paint the room gold. The woman gently awoke them using just her voice, learning long ago that shaking a soldier awake was a good way to get a broken wrist. “You’ve got to go back to your room, darling.” she said, placing a motherly hand on Lu’s shoulder once she saw that she was awake. “Day shift will be here soon.”

Lu nodded, giving Bucky a meaningful look and a grateful smile before crawling out of bed, detangling her IV line and using the pole to help herself onto her feet. The first few steps in the morning were always a little rough, and he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she was still leaning towards her scar. Barbara put a hand on her back, gently leading her towards the door.

“Hey, Babs?” Bucky whispered. It still felt too early to speak normally, as if the volume would break the magic of their little conspiracy bubble. Barbara looked over her shoulder, raising her eyebrows in response. “Thank you.”

She smiled at him then. “You’re welcome.” she said with a nod. She didn’t add an _ anytime _ or an _ of course _ because technically she was aiding and abetting. But she was also willing to bend the rules if it would help her patients. Bucky knew another nurse just like that.

He settled back into his bed, knowing that he had to at least pretend for the first part of the morning so that the day shift wouldn’t be wise to his shenanigans. The squeaking from Lu’s IV pole got fainter and fainter as she went down the hallway, and even if he knew that it was necessary, he still found himself feeling antsy that she was out of his sight. He tapped his toes against the foot of the bed, a fast, anxious rhythm that really did nothing to soothe him. In fact, after a moment, it started to annoy him.

“Sorry.” he said gruffly to his roommate, who as usual, gave no response. Bucky got out of bed and started pacing the side of the tiny room that had a window overlooking the front of the hospital, looking for anything to distract him for the time being. There was dust rising in the direction of the road, a big billow of it that signified multiple trucks speeding towards them. He paused, watching the cloud grow closer and closer. That probably wasn’t a good sign.

“Sergeant Barnes!” a woman said, not hiding her stress near as well as she thought she did. He snapped around at the sound, standing at attention out of habit. The day shift nurse - Ellen, he thought her name was - already looked slightly haggard, flyaway hairs escaping from her bun and her hat just slightly off kilter. 

“Yes, ma’am?” he asked, relaxing again. He wasn’t in trouble, for once.

“Good news, you’re getting out of here today!” she said. If she’d noticed his startle, she didn’t comment on it. She didn’t comment on him being out of bed either. Instead she marched right up to him, looking at her clipboard. “You have discharge instructions to continue drinking fluids, and to gently ease into activity. Of course, you’ll be returning home-”

“Home? Like, _ home _ home?” he asked. He’d spent the last six months dreaming of going back to New York. But now it suddenly seemed very, very far away.

“All members of the 107th that were held behind enemy lines are granted an honorable discharge.” she said, still looking through paperwork.

“That doesn’t sound right.” he said. The Army generally didn’t care about prior prisoner of war status, they usually only cared if you were able-bodied enough to return to the fight. Ellen looked up, blinking as if she was just now seeing him.

“I’m sorry?” she asked. He shook his head.

“Nevermind. You were giving me discharge instructions?” he said, able to hide his anxiety better than her. What was going to happen now? Where was he going to go? Where was Lu going?

“Right, um…” she ran the tip of her pen over the pages, trying to find her spot and failing. “A Steven Rogers is coming to collect you?”

“And what about the other patients here? What is happening with Lucille Peters?” he asked. He could’ve told the nurse without papers that Steve was coming to get him. Therefore, he had other concerns at the moment.

“The entire ambulatory floor is discharged, though some patients will be going to volunteer care facilities before returning either to active duty or home.” she said. She pushed the clipboard in front of him, holding the pen to his face. “Sign here, please.”

“But what about Lucille Peters?” he asked, signing the paper without reading it. It was all happening so fast.

“I don’t know, Sergeant. I’m sorry. We have a major catastrophe coming in, so we’ll need to vacate the floor as soon as possible. An orderly will be in shortly with clothing for you.” Ellen turned on her heel and walked out of the room, breaking into a little jog once she thought he couldn’t see her. 

“Fuck a duck.” Bucky muttered, turning to his roommate. “Can you believe this shit?”

Once again, he received no answer.

Sure enough, a big man in white brought him some olive drab clothes a few minutes later, asking if he needed help with them and barely hearing the _ no, thanks _ before he was back out of the room. Bucky changed quickly and tucked his discharge papers into his back pocket, disregarding all hospital staff as he went down the hallway to Lu’s room. The curtains were closed around her bed, and he could see two pairs of feet below them. The nurse must be helping her dress; he was sure she _ loved _ that.

“The place you’re going is wonderful. The mountain air will heal you right up.” the kindly nurse was saying. So Lu wasn’t going home, she was going to a care facility.

“I can just go. I don’t need to take up the resources.” Lu responded. There was a sharp intake of breath from her; she’d moved something wrong, and wasn’t able to hide the pain.

“You need to heal, you’re still standing sideways. It’ll be a short trip, I’m sure. Enjoy it while you can.” the nurse continued. Lu grumbled something, but he didn’t understand it.

“There you are!” a voice boomed down the hallway. Bucky turned to see Steve coming towards him, thank God dressed in Army fatigues instead of that ridiculous costume from before. 

“Dammit, you found me.” Bucky said with a grin. Steve came up and clapped him on the shoulder. Bucky fought against a wince - he still wasn’t quite used to how _ strong _ Steve was now. 

“I can outrun you now, don’t you forget it.” Steve said, smiling broadly. He’d been waiting his whole life for this moment, it seemed. Bucky was saved from having to come up with a retort by the curtain rings screeching, freeing Lu from her hiding place. Her eyes widened as she saw them both, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly.

“Oh, um, hello.” she said, obviously surprised by their presence. 

“Hey there, Doc.” Steve said. Bucky, however, was stunned speechless. Lu was in a blue floral patterned dress, with a flowy skirt that moved when she did. It hung relatively loose on her, but it seemed to allude to what curves she still had as opposed to highlighting how thin she still was. The nurse had brushed her hair and twisted it into a low bun, much less severe than the one she usually used when she was working.

“Shit.” he said, earning a slap on the back of the head from Steve. 

“There are ladies present, Buck." he stage whispered. Lu’s blush deepened, but she still held her head high. The nurse was right though, she was leaning toward her scarred side.

“Are you going to the house too?” she asked. To anyone else, it might sound like just a curiosity question, but Bucky was more attuned to her now and could hear the hopefulness.

“Nah, he’s-” Steve started to say, but Bucky quickly interrupted him.

“Yea, I am. Someone’s gotta look after you.” he said. Steve and the nurse both looked at him in confusion, but he ignored them. Lu looked unconvinced, but chose not to comment on it.

“I think it’s more the other way around, but whatever floats your boat.” she said. She smiled at the nurse and picked up her discharge papers off the bed, doing her best to walk on her own out of the room. Once they were in the hallway, she tucked her hand into Bucky’s elbow, using him to lean on.

“I guess I’m taking you to a house, then.” Steve said, for once reading the room. Bucky nodded.

“Much obliged.” he said, mimicking a terrible Southern accent. Lu glared out of the corner of her eye, pinching his arm.

“I changed my mind. Take him with you.” Lu said to Steve. He held up his hands.

“Sorry, ma’am. Orders are orders.” he said, shaking his head. She perked an eyebrow.

“Aren’t you a _ captain _?” she pointed out.

“Pretty much in name only. Don’t tell anyone.” he replied, whispering conspiratorially. He led them out of the hospital, making it down the front steps just as the wave of ambulances rolled into the driveway. Bucky put an arm around Lu, half guiding and half carrying her out of the way of the running medical staff. Steve took them over to a yellow taxi waiting in the wings, a young man leaning against it and smoking a cigarette.

“Where we go?” he asked around the cigarette, nodding his head towards them. He spoke with a thick Italian accent, but before Bucky could try his hand at the language, Lu pulled out her papers.

“Here.” she said, pointing to an address stamped at the bottom of one. The man nodded, dropping the cigarette and stomping it out with his shoe. 

“Ok. We go.” he said with a flourish, opening the door for her. Bucky helped her in and slid in after, Steve choosing to go in the slightly more spacious passenger seat. The Italian gave him a weird look, but either didn’t know the English to question it or didn’t care to. He took off in a blaze of dust and gravel, sailing down the driveway without a second thought. Lu looked a little pale, but otherwise fine, reaching across the seat to hold his hand. He looked over and gave her a warm smile, squeezing her fingers slightly. 

Eventually they’d have to talk about what came next, but for now they were just along for the ride.


	36. Monsters - December 31, 2014

**Chapter 36: Monsters**

**December 31, 2014**

_ Frankenstein _ had been one of Winter’s favorite books as a teenager. Well, he at least remembered the fact of it, though he no longer felt any sentiments towards it. Old Winter, back when he was James Buchanan Barnes, thought that the story of Dr. Frankenstein building the perfect body and bringing it to life, only to then find it hideous and uncontrollable, was an incredible story about the power of science and the arrogance of man. And also, it seemed like some Howard-Stark-level-shit, creating a body out of nothing but parts. Perhaps he would have managed it later in life, if he hadn’t met Winter.

The first time the words had started wearing off and the situation started setting in, Winter had thought of  _ Frankenstein _ again. He had fallen apart, and now German scientists had pieced his body back together, only for his mind to crack in the process. No, his mind didn’t  _ crack _ \- it was broken by hammers and chisels and needles and electricity. And just like Dr. Frankenstein, Hydra didn’t care to fix him. They just wanted him to behave. He wondered, randomly, how the book would have ended if the doctor knew about the power of words. 

Now, Winter leaned heavily against Summer, his chest pressed to her back as they both tried to get their labored breathing under control. He moved just enough to separate them, but her hand - warm, for once - held his tightly, keeping his arm around her and preventing him from pulling away. His mouth dropped to her bare shoulder, giving her something between a kiss and a bite as they came down from their high. The cold mountain air seeped between the flaps of their tent, but with no wind it wasn’t strong enough to keep them from sweating. The metal of his arm clicked as he leaned back, pulling her with him so they could sit. She repositioned slightly, making him groan as she brushed against overly sensitive parts of him. Her pinky finger was off at an odd angle, dislocated when he’d gripped too hard with the metal hand. Without word or warning he reached up and popped it back into place, earning nothing but a sharp intake of breath from her.

“Sorry.” he murmured into her hair. She flexed her hand a few times before resting it on his knee, her fingertips lightly tracing the indents from the rocks underneath them.

“Don’t be.” she said, squeezing his fingers again, hard enough to elicit just the slightest amount of pain. It almost sent a shiver through him.

Frankenstein’s monster had asked for a woman, a equal, a partner. His request was denied. At least Hydra had given him Summer. 

A dull crack echoed from somewhere far down the mountain, making them both sit up straight and shake the last bits of happiness from their shoulders. Their pursuers were catching up again; it was time to pack up and go.

“I thought the cold would slow them more.” Summer said, standing up and reaching for her discarded pants. They slid on a little too easily, telling of how their diet had suffered over the past few weeks. 

“Don’t think they feel it.” Winter said, following her lead and getting dressed. She rolled up the sleeping bag while he put their meager belongings in their packs, tossing them out of the front of the tent. She pulled her boots on, stepping out into the snow and beginning to break down the tent while Winter stepped out with his knife in one hand, and hers in the other. 

“The number is increasing.” she said, jerking her head towards the edge of the mountain pass. Winter stalked towards it, his jaw already set and his mind shifting towards the battle ahead. Below them, nine reanimated corpses ambled up the path, their uncoordinated feet slipping as they trudged through the ice. Their tenth companion lay some feet below, its leg broken at a terrible angle. But that did not stop it - it just started using its arms to climb instead. All of them had a black circle on their forehead held to their skin with spider like legs, the dried blood tracks telling them that the devices were either applied right after death, or when the victims were still alive. A red light blinked in the middle, its tempo increasing as it got closer to their target.

“You’d think they’d run out of those.” Winter said with a sigh, flipping the knife in his right hand to get a feel for it. He was a talented combatant, yes, but it still felt just slightly wrong to use Summer’s knife. Perhaps it was because if he had it, then she didn’t. She stopped her movements, standing ramrod straight as she looked down.

“Unless someone has been collecting them.” she said. He stiffened at that; how could they not think of it before? “We need to start destroying them afterwards.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” he replied. The words were somehow foreign and familiar, and he could tell by the way she blinked at him that she had the same sense of deja vu. They shared a fleeting glance, somehow having an entire conversation - act first, reflect later. 

Winter nodded, turning and jumping down onto the ledge below them, the soft landing allowing him to spring towards his first target, slamming his knife through the eye. Black blood oozed onto his metal hand but he paid it no mind, wrenching the knife from its hold and continuing on to the next one. This one got a knife through the temple, the corpse’s face going slack as the brain died again. The spray of blood was cold and unnatural, so thick and sticky that instead of making the handle of his knife slippery, it glued it to his skin. Hands reached towards him - two pairs of them - and he easily knocked them away. He slammed both knives under the jaws of the dead men, but before he could pull them out three more pairs of hands grabbed at him from behind. He sent a leg out behind him without looking, feeling the satisfying weight of his foot landing home. He was able to turn and throw one knife into the corpse’s head, slamming the other into one’s skull. The third he grabbed with his metal hand, squeezing roughly until the skull gave up. The next two had upped their pace, but they couldn’t match his skill or speed, especially when it seemed like their mission was to capture him  _ alive _ . 

The first four weeks after they’d left Cero, Hydra had sent scouts and assassins to try and capture them, underestimating the strength and training they’d given to their soldiers. Then, they started sending these  _ zombies _ (Summer had remembered the word first) to try and outlast them. The undead didn’t have to sleep, or eat, or stop to rest. They could continue relentlessly towards their target. The mountains at the border of Georgia and Russia offered enough resistance to give Summer and Winter time to recover fully, but the range was short, and soon they would have to make a mad dash for the Taman Bay. They weren’t even sure if the zombies could swim or not. 

Once Winter dispatched the one army crawling and leaving a trail of black blood on the ice, he ripped the device from its head with his metal hand. Summer was right; each spider had layers of gore on the long legs, a record of its usage. It immediately came to life, the legs scrambling in search of another host. It attempted to sink the needle-like ends into his arm but just glanced off the metal, its movements becoming more frantic with each passing moment. Winter threw it onto the hard ground, quickly crushing it with his boot before it could scurry away. The legs spasmed and half-heartedly reached towards his foot in a last effort before sagging and dying. He half expected there to be blood when he picked his leg up, but of course there was only crushed machinery, the red light finally dim. He would have to be careful removing the other ones. 

Summer jumped down behind him, and he could spot their packs and collapsed tent neatly piled together up on the ridge above them. He’d assumed she saw him remove the first spider, but a bolt of horror went through him as she reached for the one nearest to her. “Wait.” he said, his voice louder and more commanding than he meant for it to be. She looked up with fire in her eyes at the order, but it dissipated when she saw his expression. He jogged back up the path, stopping with the once-again-dead body between them.

“What?” she asked, impatient. 

“The legs. They’ll grab for you.” he explained. He held up his metal hand. “I got lucky.”

“Luck isn’t real.” she said, once again an echo of her former self. But neither one of them could conjure the memory. He let out a breath, the only way to express his frustration. The corner of her mouth twitched, and soon he realized that she was trying not to laugh at him. Dammit. 

He reached down, pulling the spider out just enough so he could grab onto the legs. He held them tightly, twisting the body so that the wires sparked and tore, separating the two. The legs fell lifeless onto the dead man’s forehead, but the red light continued to blink. Only then did he drop it and crush it like the first one. “Be careful.”

“Got it.” she said with a nod. He held his breath as she went to the next body, copying his exact movements and achieving the same results. Only then did his hands relax, now that he knew that the spiders wouldn’t reach out and grab her. They went to each body, removing the device from its roots and crushing it, but by the time they made it to the last one, Summer paused.

“Perhaps we could use this.” she said, not looking as he came up to her. She was turning the spider body over in her hands, the light blinking rapidly since it was so close to them. Besides that, there was nothing except for the black octagon shaped body - no markings, no serial numbers, no screws. 

“They’ll be tracking it.” he pointed out. She didn’t respond, only reached out and pulled her knife from the holster on his thigh without looking at him. The edge was barely fine enough to fit into a crevice, the spider breaking in half as she twisted it. He moved closer, his head right next to hers as they both tried to make sense of the wiring inside. There were, of course, no clues that they could decipher, no way for them to tell how the things enslaved the corpses they attached to. Summer dropped it with a huff, stomping it hard enough to make an impression in the ice and the ground below it before going back to their camp, climbing up the ridge with the same hand holds Winter had created yesterday. He gave one last look at the carnage before following her, feeling like a sniper sight was trained right between his shoulder blades. 

They shrugged on cold weather gear and grabbed their packs, continuing the trek up the mountain. The wind found them then, dark snow clouds rolling ominously in the distance. Darkness would fall long before the sun did, and their journey would have to continue after that. Trees and stone made the wind groan around them, but something underneath it made them pause and look back. In the distance they could see the sea of red, blinking lights, marking upwards of fifty undead coming towards them. Instinctively they unsheathed their knives, the grip feeling slightly awkward through the thickness of their gloves. They’d wait until the last moment before removing them, giving them full use of their hands. 

“Not yet.” Winter said, turning and continuing up the path. They walked with renewed fervor then, their breath rising in great white puffs as they climbed higher and higher. The air was getting thin, but they could see the turn point where they would start going downhill, so they ignored the oxygen deprivation and focused on climbing over the mountain. Adrenaline held off any pain and the serum that affected their genetics fought off any fatigue, allowing them to push despite the environment. With impressive speed, they reached the summit.

And were met with another sea of blinking red lights. 

Winter looked back and forth, his mind telling him that he was just hallucinating. But no, there really were fifty more blinking lights down below them, their movements jerky as the zombies stumbled up towards them. A hundred eyes stared at them, the wind carrying their moans and grumbles. Hydra had killed all these people just to get the two of them, and if they weren’t careful, it would work.

“This may be it.” Summer said, though she didn’t sound convinced. Distant thunder rolled and white flurries started swirling around them, getting caught in her hair and his beard and melting immediately. Without a thought they pulled out their baseball caps, figuring it was enough cover for now.

“Someone has to be leading them.” Winter said, his mind already whirring with plans. They would have to use the terrain to their advantage; whatever the spider did to these people, it left them with only basic reflexes and instincts. Their enemies had no weapons, but Summer and Winter didn’t have enough ammo to utilize their guns. Even then, the sounds would be too loud, bring too much attention to their location. Hydra could estimate where they were now, but with muzzle fire and a convergence point of the two undead armies, their estimation would turn exact.

“The same someone that’s following us.” she said, twisting her hair to keep it out of her way. Used to when she twisted it like that, it would be into a tight little bun at the base of her neck. Now, she just stuffed it under her baseball cap. 

“You’re right. This is it.” he said, diving into his backpack and pulling out every knife he could find, strapping them to his person. Summer followed suit, her eyes never leaving him as she waited for an explanation.

“Explosives?” she asked, pulling out the flat discs that adhered to any surface, exploding when the motion sensor triggered. He shook his head.

“We need to save those.” he said, unstrapping the tent and pitching it haphazardly. It didn’t need to be perfect - the one good thing was that their enemy was easy to trick. “Grab kindling.”

Summer nodded, going to the bare trees and shaking the newly dropped snow from their branches. The wood was slightly damp, but it would do. “I thought fire would be too obvious.”

“A bonfire with a hundred corpses means forensic processing.” he said, piling the wood she brought in the corner of the tent. 

“All it takes is a metal detector to know that your arm isn’t here.” she pointed out, making him pause for a moment. She could see the wheels turning in his brain, and wondered if it was steam coming off him in the cold or if there was actual smoke coming out of his ears. After a moment he stood slowly, pulling around his beloved rifle. To anyone else, the way he held it might have been sentimental, but Summer knew what really was making him hesitate: he was a certified sharp shooter even before the serum enhanced his abilities, and losing the rifle would be like losing a limb. Eventually he sighed, and used his metal arm to bend and twist it until it vaguely resembled the shape of it.

“It’ll have to work.” he said, pulling the magazine. The snow was coming faster now, starting to stick to the frozen ground; it would give them more time to prepare, but less time to make an escape. He tossed the magazine to Summer. “Break the bullets. Gather the gunpowder.”

“We shouldn’t waste ammunition.” she said, appalled that he would suggest such a thing.

“Are you carrying any other accelerants?” he countered, making her clamp her mouth shut again. Perhaps she didn’t have an alternative, but that didn’t mean she had to  _ like _ the plan. So she started breaking the shells as if she were snapping open pistachios, letting the gunpowder gather in two bags. She couldn’t bring herself to toss the actual bullets, and instead put them in her pocket for later. She didn’t know what she was going to do with them, but it made her feel that much safer to have them. 

“They’re following the scent. And the heat.” she said as he finished organizing the wood in the tent. Now that they were closer, she could see how the zombies downwind tilted their heads up, taking deep breaths and adjusting accordingly. The ones on the other side of the mountain didn’t seem to follow their movements with their eyes, but when Summer and Winter were next to each other they seemed to move a little faster. 

“Good.” he said, tearing his coat off and hanging it on the outside of the tent. Summer followed his motions, ignoring the biting cold. Soon they would be running and that would keep her warm enough. The red dots were close now, dangerously close, and the snow was coming down fast, making visibility even more difficult. Winter described the rest of his plan; it would take a miracle to work, but perhaps fate was on their side today. He stepped into the tent with his lighter, holding the open flame to the carefully arranged sticks.

Nothing happened.

“Fuck.” he said, louder than he should have. He held the lighter closer, steam coming off the sticks, but none of the flame sticking. They were simply too wet. He could feel panic setting in; he’d failed Summer, failed himself-

“Use this.” Summer said, pulling out the trashy paperback novel she’d gotten months ago. The pages were folded in multiple places and a large tear went through the cover, but it was still mostly intact. Winter hesitated; that was something she enjoyed, something special to her. As if she could read his mind, she grabbed it in both hands and ripped it in half. “I can get another one.” 

“I’ll get you a whole shelf of them.” he remarked, the words escaping before his mind caught on to them. Neither one of them acknowledged the statement, instead focusing on tearing up the novel and spreading the pages around. They could hear the ragged breaths of the zombies now, meaning their window was rapidly closing. Winter didn’t bother being careful, instead just throwing the lighter into the tent and hoping the flame caught. He and Summer separated, their skin cold enough and the tent just warm enough to trick the zombies. They climbed onto tall rocks next to the path, settling like stone gargoyles in the night. The undead continued their trek towards the jackets and the tent, which was now glowing orange and casting long, deadly shadows towards them. Steam was billowing out the front as the pages of the book caught and dried out the wood, the snow swirling through the front adding to it. As the zombies filed past, Summer and Winter sprinkled them with the gunpowder; with the heavy snow falling, the zombies couldn’t tell the difference. There wasn’t enough to coat all of them, but there was enough to make the fire spread. 

The first few pushed into the tent, their growls loud enough to be heard over the storm. The growls turned to low howls as the fire caught them, latching on to the dead and dying skin. Little flares popped up as the gunpowder did its job, and the other zombies assumed these noises were sounds of victory, following them and rushing to join their comrades. The snow around the tent started melting as the fire grew, the zombies that were burning stumbling around and taking the flames to the others. Winter waited until every one caught flame before signalling to Summer, and both of them started sprinting down the path.

If any of the zombies noticed, they didn’t make it far, as the fire grew like a sun in the darkness. Their screams echoed, but there wasn’t enough power in their voices to send the sound through the mountains. Summer and Winter didn’t look back, instead using what little light they had to run down the path at breakneck speeds. If it weren’t for their enhancements they would have surely broken an ankle or fallen to their death by now, but for once the serum came in handy.

They ran until the screams died down, and the fire was just barely a glow in the distance. Only then did they stop, resting their hands on their knees and taking in deep lungfuls of cold air. Once Summer’s hands stopped shaking, she held one out, gesturing with her fingers. “Give me your scope.”

“What?” Winter’s brain was trying to catch up with his feet. What did she need a scope for when there wasn’t a rifle attached to it?

“Your scope!” she said again. He nodded, digging into his bag and pulling out the scope that once rested on his favorite rifle. She put it to her eye, slowly scanning the area around them.

“What do you see?” he asked. She didn’t answer, still looking through the dying light for the source of their pursuers. She stopped cold as a single blinking red light appeared in her vision.

“I found him.” she said. She could tell by the shape that it was a man, though he was far more decomposed than the rest of them. She stared hard, resting her elbows on a rock and adjusting the scope so she could see more clearly. What little flesh the man had was barely hanging on, age coloring it terrifying shades of black. She couldn’t make out any features, just the curve of his bones that shone white in the darkness. He was in old Army fatigues, and on the jacket sleeve, barely hanging on by decades old velcro, was the name patch. Well, part of it at least. She could just catch the last few letters: - _ llens. _

“What is it?” Winter asked, noting how still she was. Her breath caught, memories of the cages coming back to her. She could feel the arm around her waist, his nails digging into her skin as she tried to fight him off. How on earth did they still have his body after all this time?

“Mullens.” she said in a rush. If they were trying to throw them off, trying to distract them with a piece of their past, then it was working. Almost. Winter held out his hand, and she wordlessly handed over the smaller, less powerful rifle that she had. 

“Told him I’d kill him someday.” Winter said darkly, and though the words were threatening, he sounded more like  _ Bucky Barnes _ than he had in a long time. She watched through the scope as Mullens’ body turned this way and that, trying to figure out what was going on in the distance. He clearly had a little more wherewithal than his minions, but just barely. Winter took a deep breath, and then another, then grew unnaturally still just as Mullens looked right their way. Winter squeezed the trigger, the single shot ringing out into the night - and hitting Mullens right in that damn blinking red light. 

Another bang sounded, and they both dropped, checking their bodies for bullet wounds. But the sound wasn’t from a gun - it was from fireworks, their bright colors spread across the distant sky now that it was dark. More went up, exploding into a spectacular array.

“What day is it?” Winter asked, wracking his mind and trying to remember the calendar. Summer blinked for a second, trying to picture it in her mind.

“New Year’s Eve.” she replied. More fireworks went off in the distance, their presence easily masking their one gun shot moments before. If only they’d remembered what day it was, then they wouldn’t have to worry about guns or explosives being conspicuous.

“Happy New Year.” Winter said, the words making something shift between them. He found her eyes in the darkness, the green of them turning rainbow as the fireworks reflected. She reached out, holding his metal hand for just a moment before picking up the scope again, confirming their kill.

Silence fell over them. This is what Hydra was doing - using their darkest resources to try and reclaim their lost assets. Summer and Winter needed to move faster now, and find a way onto the black map. They weren’t giving up, but neither were their enemies.

It was down to who could outlast the other now.


	37. Recruit - November 21, 1943

**Chapter 37: Recruit**

**November 21, 1943**

Lu liked to think that she was tough. After two years in the military, she’d learned how to hide pain and emotions and anything that would make a uniformed man consider her an  _ easy target _ . Even after Pearl, when she had dreams about the explosions and woke up sweating and gasping for breath, she refused to lean on anyone. She could deal with it herself. 

But after a month in a dungeon, something in her mind refused to let her stay silent. Perhaps it was something they put in the serum, the one that tried to burn her from the inside out. Or perhaps it was because there was only so much one person could handle before they broke. Lu refused to believe that was the reason.

No matter how much she wanted to keep her pain locked away and put on a brave face, the nightmares that plagued her were so terrifying and felt so  _ real _ that now she woke herself screaming. It had only happened the past two nights, but those two times were so horrifying that it made her wonder if this was how it was going to be forever. She knew her screams had to be waking everyone in the little Italian villa - she saw it at breakfast in the morning, when the other recovering soldiers glanced her way and then quickly looked down at their food. No one looked her in the eye except for Barnes and the middle aged woman housing them.

She thought she could make it through the night, but once again fear gripped her and screeches tore from her throat as she dreamed of a man in a white lab coat strapping her down to a table and forcing her to watch as they cut bits and pieces away from Barnes. His sounds of pain matched her own, her heart seizing as his blood painted the white lab coat red. She screamed for them to stop, to let him go, to take her instead, but the doctor paid no mind. He was focused on the victim in front of him.

Lu woke to Barnes shaking her, calling her name and trying to get her to snap out of it. At first when she saw his face, she saw him as he was on that operating table. But then her mind came back to her, taking in his bare chest and his intact skin and making her see that it was just a terrible, horrible dream. He must have run straight from his bed at the other end of the hall; his hair was a mess, and he was only in his boxers, not finding the time to put on the pajama pants they provided here. He confessed the first morning that they were too big and had a tendency to tangle around his legs, making him feel trapped. Lu understood the feeling.

“You’re okay, Doc.” he said, roughly pulling her to him. The dam broke, and despite spending her entire life hiding behind a mask of toughness, Lu found herself sobbing into his shoulder. He smoothed her hair and kept murmuring something, though she couldn’t understand him over the sounds of her crying. “You’re okay.” he finally said, a little louder this time. 

“What is going on?!” a voice exclaimed from the doorway. They both flinched, turning to see one of the other soldiers standing there, holding his cane like a weapon as if he could maneuver at all without it. He said something to Barnes in Italian, an accusation in his tone and the cane pointed at him like a sword. Barnes let go of Lu for a moment, holding his hands up in innocence as he tried to explain in his rusty Italian, stammering as he forgot the words he needed. The other soldier kept yelling over him, and Lu wondered how Barnes could understand him at all.

“ _ Marito _ .” Barnes finally said, putting his hand on his sternum. He tried to say something else, holding his hands out towards Lu, but his vocabulary failed him. The soldier looked at Lu, once again speaking rapidly in Italian and gesturing between the two of them with his cane. “Just agree.” Barnes hissed, low enough that the man didn’t notice. 

“Yes, yes.” Lu said thickly, her tears still making her throat tight. She suddenly realized how this must look, with a crying woman in her nightclothes and a man only in his boxers. “I’m fine.” she said, hoping that the man understood her. He looked wary, so for good measure she reached over and took Barnes’ hand, hoping to get the message across that way. His palm was warm, his fingers wrapping protectively around hers and helping her ground her to reality. The man huffed before nodding, pointing at Barnes one more time and saying something before turning and limping off.

“Damn.” Barnes breathed, his shoulders dropping in relief. He sat next to her on the bed, still holding her hand. “You alive, Doc?”

“Yea. Yea, I’m alive.” she said. She was glad he didn’t ask if she was okay, because she definitely wasn’t - and she definitely wouldn’t admit it, even to him. “What did you tell him to make him understand?”

Even in the moonlight, she could see him blush. “I, um, told him I was your husband.” he said, and despite the apparent chagrin he didn’t look away from her. A squeak made it out of her as she sat ramrod straight, her eyes wide.

“What?” she gasped. He held up his hands, giving her a little bit of space.

“I’m sorry! I just - it was the first thing I could think of. I figured he’d leave us alone.” he said, actually looking quite apologetic. She swallowed her panic, letting out a shaky breath.

“It’s okay. It makes sense.” she said, her heartbeat returning to a normal rhythm. He was totally right, even if the idea made heat rise into her cheeks. And if she was honest, she didn’t really  _ mind _ the idea. 

“It makes sense for me to be your husband? I agree.” he said with a grin, his confidence back now that he knew he didn’t offend her. Lu glared out of the corner of her eye, crossing her arms over her chest. She tried to be indignant, but her hands were still shaking from her nightmare. It was still too easy to picture the doctor cutting into Barnes.

“I thought it was customary to ask first.” she said, surprising herself and him with the comment. He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yea? And what would you say if I asked?” he countered. Her heart was suddenly pounding for an entirely different reason, the heat in her cheeks creeping down into her neck and chest. He’d said it in a teasing tone, but his smile had faltered, his expression somewhere between nervous and hopeful.

“I...I don’t know.” she stammered, immediately wanting to smack herself in the head. It wasn’t a real proposal! They weren’t really talking about this! Why couldn’t she have just said ‘yes’! Why couldn’t she just admit, even to herself, that she  _ wanted _ him to ask?

“Well I don’t even have a ring, so it’s a moot point.” he said lightly, as if her response didn’t just spear him in the chest. He still had that small smile on his face, still stayed close to her, and she quickly reached out to grab his hand as if he was about to leave.

“Thank you. For waking me.” she said, squeezing his fingers tightly. 

“Yea. I’m always here to save you.” he replied, moving closer and pulling her to his chest, this time gently. She leaned into him, savoring the warmth of his skin and the weight of his arms around her, as if his embrace was all she needed to keep her safe in this war. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She hesitated, not wanting to admit that he was a weak point for her. But if she couldn’t tell him about it, who could she tell? “They were hurting you. And I couldn’t do anything.” she said. She moved back, taking his face in her hands, as if she needed to make sure he was still there. She could still see his blood spattering the white lab coat every time she blinked, his screams echoing in the back of her mind. Whatever she was going to say was forgotten as she stared into his blue eyes, and instead she found herself saying, “I can’t lose you.” 

“You won’t. I’m right here.” he said, leaning his forehead against hers. He put his hand up, his warm palm pressing her hand against his cheek so that his stubble bit just a little more into her hand. She didn’t mind the discomfort, it helped her see that he was here, and he was real. 

“I love you.” she whispered, only the second time she said it out loud to him. It suddenly seemed impertinent that he knew. “And I do want to spend forever with you. I really do. I’m sorry I’m an ass sometimes.”

He chuckled softly at her swearing. “You’re not an ass. You’re human. And for the record, I love you too. I’ll be with you as long as you’ll have me.”

“I know I get snippy and nervous-”

“Doc.” he leaned away so that he could look at her fully. “We’re in uncharted waters. You don’t have to have all the answers.”

Funny, that was exactly what she expected of herself. “I’m afraid to lose you.” she admitted, finally finding the root of all her fears. He made her feel things that she’d never felt before, made her have thoughts and dreams and plans of stuff that she never wanted until she met him. And that scared her. She knew he’d been with other women before, whereas her experiences with any facets of relationships were negligible. What if one day she wasn’t enough?

“You’re not gonna lose me.” he reiterated. “Doc, we survived a goddamn science dungeon together. You think a little sarcasm is gonna run me off?” 

“Maybe.” she admitted. How many times had her mother told her that men wouldn’t care for her humor? But apparently he either thought she was kidding, or thought the idea ludicrous, because he laughed.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me.” he said, his thumbs gently wiping away the remnants of her tears. “I’m not going anywhere unless you ask me to.” 

She nodded, taking a deep breath and trying to garner some courage. “Will you stay in here tonight? Just - in the chair?” she said, still afraid to be considered  _ improper  _ even though the night they’d shared a bed in the hospital was one of the most restful in recent memory. He nodded, pulling the chair close to her bed and sitting down in it with a sigh.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell my mother that you’re asking me to shack up with you.” he said with a grin. Her jaw dropped - part of her knew that he was kidding, but the bigger part of her, the part that was afraid that any step she took in this relationship would be her last, was terrified that he would tell on her. As if he read her mind, he grabbed her hand. “A joke, Doc. That was a joke.”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.” she said, losing all her breath in one go. “You can’t do that to a girl.”

“You’ve carted through war torn countries and amputated limbs, but my  _ mother _ scares you?” he asked, one eyebrow lifted. Now that he said it out loud, it did sound silly, but she was never going to admit that. She burrowed under her covers to buy herself some time, using them as a barrier to hide her embarrassment.

“I know how to handle wounds. But mothers can have a much more serious effect on a man’s life.” she said knowingly. The mothers she’d been around back in Virginia came in two varieties: the demure doves determined not to raise a ruckus, or the cold and calculating madames that ran houses with iron fists. They often spoke of “liberal” women in places like New York, where rules were nothing more than guidelines and the envelope was pushed so much it was about to fall off the desk. What was it like to be  _ raised _ by a woman like that?

Barnes snorted. “She would love you, you know.”

“I don’t know. That’s why she scares me.” she said lightly, as if she were kidding.

“Well I do.” he said, pushing her hair out of her face and leaning to press a kiss to her forehead. She snagged the chain of his dog tags, tugging him closer so he would kiss her on the lips. It was still so new to her, sending a thrill down her spine and grounding her back in reality. Barnes was here, kissing her. He was  _ fine _ .

“Tell me about her.” she whispered when he pulled away, adjusting so she was more comfortable. He refused to let go of her hand, slouching down in the chair and resting his leg on her bed. 

“Hm, well,” he thought for a moment, staring up at the ceiling and tapping his free fingers against his chest. “Her name is Winnifred. Dad calls her Winnie. She works as a secretary at Scribner’s, and completely abuses her privilege to get advanced copies of books from authors she likes. She and my father share a nightcap every night, but she still gets giggly and red-faced if she has a whole glass on her own. She’ll like how no-nonsense you are.”

“She will? You’re planning on introducing us?” she asked. This time, she allowed herself to smile, and to feel the little glow of happiness in her stomach. Soldiers made plans all the time for after the war, and she had until then to convince her traitorous brain that Barnes wasn’t like those other soldiers. After all, he’d kept his promises so far.

“Of course. I’ll warn you now, she’ll act all shy at first, but that’s just a front. Once you feel a false sense of security, she’ll hit you with the hard questions, like what you think about her roast beef or whether the articles in the New York Times are too biased.” he replied.

“Oh, those are easy. It’s delicious, and of course they are.” Lu said, squeezing his hand. He smiled widely.

“See? You’re all ready.” he said. “Seriously though, you have nothing to worry about.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” she said. There was no way she’d be meeting his mother any time soon, but the fact that he wanted her to was the important part. He pulled her hand to his lips, barely grazing them over her knuckles.

“Go to sleep, Doc. We’ll make some more plans tomorrow.” he whispered, laying his head against the chair back. The shift allowed the moonlight to spill over his face, highlighting the dark circles beneath his eyes. He wasn’t sleeping well alone either. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“Promise?” she asked, her own fatigue hitting her again. If she looked at his face now, she didn’t see her dream, she just saw the man she loved. 

“Promise.” he said, gazing lovingly at her until she closed her eyes. His fingers relaxed and his breathing evened out, and with that comforting rhythm she was able to fall asleep again. 

Lu was the first to wake, and allowed herself a few self-indulgent moments to admire Barnes. The sun was already up, the warm light streaming through the window of the villa and making his bare chest shine with an angelic light. He was so handsome; the thought used to piss her off, but now it just made her blush as her body reacted to him. Passages from the romance novels she read flitted unwittingly through her mind, and she found herself imagining what his fingers running over her skin felt like, or his chest pressing against hers-

Barnes twitched then blinked himself awake, his eyes immediately searching for hers. It was a fight to not hide underneath the covers, but his concerned look was enough to stop her. “Are you okay? Did you have another dream?” he asked. Did daydreams count? Because if so, yes, but it was not the kind of dream he meant.

“No, no I’m okay. Why?” she asked. Could he  _ actually _ read minds? No, that was ridiculous. That sort of thing belonged in comic books and motion pictures.

“You just...look a little flushed.” he said. She wished she could melt into the floor.

“Just got a little warm.” she said, sounding strained even to her own ears. God, this man had her completely wound up, how  _ humiliating _ . 

He smiled, which did nothing to help matters, and gingerly extracted himself from the chair. Once again, he went to kiss her forehead, and once again, she pulled him back for a real kiss. She’d kissed a few men before him - mainly due to a healthy mix of curiosity and boredom - but it had never felt like this, never left her wanting more. Now she could almost understand what those romance novels were talking about. 

“I’ll let you get dressed.” he murmured, moving to kiss her cheek. His skin had some distinct smell, though she couldn’t place it. Also, since when could she smell his very skin? God damn him. He turned and left, and she noticed too late that he was still very conspicuously dressed in his boxers, quickly averting her eyes so she didn’t see anything he didn’t want her to. 

She and Barnes must have been the last to get up. The typical breakfast spread was already put away, leaving them to search around the kitchen for some leftovers and half cups of cold coffee. Sitting in the sun room of the villa let them pretend there wasn’t a war going on, and the quiet house let them sit closer than they normally would in polite company. It was as close to domestic bliss as they could get. 

They were washing dishes when the mother of the house - a middle aged Italian woman who spoke very broken English - came in through the front door. Usually she had arms full of groceries, but today she had help in the form of one Steve Rogers, who of course could not help himself and had to carry them in for her. Lu wanted to be happy to see him, wanted to think that he was just here to visit, but something about his arrival made her uneasy. Barnes’ face brightened immediately, and once Steve put the groceries down he embraced him like a brother. Steve gave her a bashful half grin, leaning in for a polite and respectful kiss on the cheek. It was so entirely  _ normal _ that it made her head spin.

“Doc, how’re you feeling?” he asked. Barnes came to stand next to her, putting his hand on the kitchen island and leaning against it, his arm barely touching her back. She wondered if he knew the little tells of jealousy - or, perhaps, it was protectiveness.

“Better. Much better.” she said with a strained smile. “Is everything okay with you? At the camp?” 

“Yea, oh yea. I’m actually shipping out tomorrow for London.” he said. He opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something more, but closed it and looked instead to Barnes. “Can I borrow you for a second?”

“Sure.” Barnes said, easy and breezy. Lu’s heart contracted a little tighter, and for a moment she wanted to grab his hand and tell him not to go, not to talk to Steve. But before she could do anything, the house mother - Mari - took her hand and tugged her towards the groceries.

“Come. We cook.” she said with a bright smile. Lu gave Barnes one last panicked look before he disappeared around the corner. Mari rubbed her shoulders in a comforting matter. “Food makes better.” 

“You’re right, Mari.” Lu said, trying to calm her frayed nerves and focus on what was going on in front of her. She could barely hear the men talking in the next room, their voices low but somewhat heated. If they could talk just a little bit louder, she might be able to understand them.

“Watch. Look.” Mari said, her loud voice startling Lu from her intense eavesdropping. Lu looked to her, watching as she dumped some flour straight out of the bag and onto the island surface. The sound of the bag crinkling grated on her, and she could have sworn she heard every little speck of flour hitting the countertop. Mari went on undeterred, showing her how to use her fingers to shape the well, and then add the eggs to it. Lu, unable to split her attention or to hear the conversation over Mari’s haphazard instructions, sighed and resigned herself to learning this new task.

Kneading the pasta turned out to be rather therapeutic, as did chopping the vegetables while the dough rested. When it came time to roll it out, she noticed her sheet was lopsided compared to Mari’s, her body guarding in case any pain came from the incision in her ribs. But she didn’t have any pain, much to her surprise. The tightness was still there, but if there weren’t a scar, she would never think she’d had a thoracotomy. 

“This make your sergeant happy.” Mari declared, gesturing at the sheet of dough in front of her. This time her smile was genuine.

“Yes, I think it will.” she said softly, glancing up to find Barnes leaning against the corner, watching her. Steve was nowhere to be found. Her hands went still at the look on his face, and when she turned to give Mari an excuse, the woman waved her away. She abandoned the project, going to see what the hell was going on. “What is it? What happened?”

“Steve got recruited. To some special ops thing.” he said, pulling her into the empty sitting room and away from Mari’s curious ears - as if she could understand them. 

“Oh.” she breathed. That was it? She realized she needed to show some empathy. “I’m sorry. I know you worry about him.”

“He asked me to come with him.”

A rock dropped into Lu’s stomach, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to choke or throw up or pass out. Or perhaps all three. How aggravating. She licked her lips, trying to get her mouth to say something, anything. “Oh.” she said again. “I - are you-”

“Come with me.” he said, taking her hands earnestly. “They’re planning on going after Hydra directly, taking down all the bases where they’re doing the same shit that they did to us. There’s a whole elite team, you know a lot of them, Morita and Dugan and-”

“I - I can’t.” she said, shaking her head. Going back into the belly of the beast? The idea alone was enough to make her spine freeze in panic. All the warmth and joy of the morning was gone, and she was acutely reminded of why she never let herself get close to anyone. 

“Of course you can. The boys want you there. You’re the best goddamned doc we know, and Lord knows we’re gonna need a lot of patching up-” Barnes went on explaining, completely missing the point.

“No, I mean - I don’t know if I can do it. If I can go back in there.” she said. She felt dizzy. This was too much. He furrowed his brows, blinking slowly a couple times.

“I mean, you wouldn’t be going in the bunkers. But c’mon, you can handle whatever scrapes and bruises we come up with, you’re a whiz at all the trauma stuff.” He was so sweet, really, to be so encouraging. But he didn’t understand.

“I don’t want to see more trauma.” she whispered. 

“What do you mean? You love it.” he said. She shook her head again.

“I got into nursing to deliver babies. I went into the Navy because it would take me far away from home. I never wanted...I never planned to do any of this. Never planned to see all of this.”  _ Never planned to meet you. Never planned to fall in love _ . 

Barnes seemed to understand then, and wordlessly let her hands drop. She felt some emotion well up inside her, either panic or anger, depending on his reaction. She expected him to be like George, to yell how this was what was best, that she needed to listen to him, that he knew what she wanted. He turned away from her, one hand on his hip and the other raking through his hair, giving her no choice but to wait it out. When he finally looked back at her, she didn’t see anger, only...fear?

“Will you...I mean…” he paused. She couldn’t bear if he asked her again, cause this time she wasn’t sure she could say no. “Would it be presumptuous of me to ask for you to wait for me?”

“What?” Whatever reaction she was expecting, that wasn’t it. He moved back to her, taking her face in his hands.

“I know it may be a while. But I - I love you, and after this is all over I wanna be with you. I can’t…” he stopped again, just leaning his forehead against hers. “If I can’t have you with me, I think I’ll only make it through if I know you’re on the other side.”

Lu thought she couldn’t be surprised anymore. She was wrong. 

“You want me...to wait?” she asked, her chest feeling like it was about to crack open with the way Barnes was looking at her.

“I understand if you can’t.” he said, still looking at her so intensely it scared her. “But I had to ask. I had to.”

He was giving her a choice. When did a man ever give her a choice?

Her love for him overwhelmed her, and she found herself tightly gripping the front of his shirt. The thought of him walking out that door became more terrifying than the thought of going out with him, the vision of him laying somewhere dying without her there to help making it hard to breathe. 

“I’ll go with you.” she said, the words both exciting her and scaring her. This would be some grand adventure they would talk about someday. Or they would die out there somewhere, trying to make the world better. Either way, they would be together.

“You don’t have to.” he said, shaking his head.

“I want to. I want to go with you, I want…” she paused, steeling herself. She couldn’t hide things from him anymore. “I want to be with you. For better or worse.” She’d been awkward about their jokes earlier. Now she hoped he knew she meant it.

“Serious?” he asked. She nodded. He threw his arms around her, crushing her to his chest and squeezing the last bit of doubt from her. She wanted - needed - to go with him.

She wasn’t sure how things would end. But she was sure this was the right choice. 


	38. Blizzard - February 1, 2015

**Chapter 38: Blizzard**

**February 1, 2015**

Winter in Russia was blissfully snowy.

Winter himself knew that the inhabitants of Sevastopol probably did not care for the blizzards, or the inhuman temperatures, or the scarcity of resources. The modern world had many advancements that certainly made life in the extreme elements easier, but no technology could help when ten feet of snow piled up. Summer and Winter found an abandoned house on the outskirts of town; it was really more of a shack than a house, and the snow was probably aiding in keeping the walls standing, but it held off the wind and had a functioning stove, which was all they really needed. 

Scratching sounds came from the window, and Winter got up and forced it open. The ice thickened in the time that Summer was gone getting food, and he had to be careful not to use more strength than necessary to wrench it open in time for her to squeeze through the minimal gap. She was able to gracefully roll out of the drop and keep the groceries organized, but behind her a healthy lump of snow fell onto the floor with a wet  _ plop _ . 

“You’re going to ruin the wood.” Winter remarked, tossing what snow he could back outside before slamming the window shut again. The remaining snow had already melted, leaving a wet patch on the floor. He reached for the one threadbare towel, but decided using it wasn’t worth it.

“I think many things ruined the wood before me.” Summer replied, putting down the groceries and going to sit in front of the wood burning stove. The snowflakes stuck in her hair sparkled with the light of the fire, making her seem more like an angel than an instrument of war. Her hands shook with blue fingertips as she held them up in front of her, trying to get warmth back into them. “I fucking hate this fucking cold.”

Winter raised an eyebrow. “Such language.” he said, earning a glare over her shoulder. The movement caused more snow to fall from her shoulders, already reduced to water by the time they hit the ground. The cold didn’t bother him; in fact, he was pretty comfortable in their little hideaway here, but he couldn’t stop himself from going to sit next to her. 

“Something’s wrong out there.” she said, opening and closing her fists. The blue was starting to change to an angry pink as she held them too close to the fire. He reached out and grabbed her hands, holding her icy fingers between his palms to warm them before she gave herself second degree burns. 

“Besides the weather?” he asked, alert. Many things could go wrong, it was just a matter of narrowing down the severity. 

“Especially the weather.” she mumbled, more to herself than to him. She met his eyes again, this time with an emotion he couldn’t place. “The girl at the corner store is missing now.”

Her hands twitched, and he held them tighter. “She could be sick.” he offered. The possibility was weak at best, but it was technically a possibility.

“The boy from the grocers is still gone.” she continued.

“Perhaps home for holidays.”

“And one of the twins from the restaurant.” she insisted.

“Giving her brother more work hours.”

“Winter!” Summer snapped, jerking her hands back. She was no longer cold, her anger serving to warm her completely. “Something is wrong.”

“And what do you want to do about it?” he asked. The question came out more aggressive than he meant, though he was actually quite sincere in asking it. They had to keep their priorities straight, that was the only way for them to survive. 

“We can help. We  _ should _ help.” she said. He shook his head.

“At best it’s kids taking off. And at worst it’s Hydra stealing more bodies. Either way, it’s too much of a risk for us to get involved.” he said. The reason they were safe now was because the blizzard would hide them. The last thing they needed was to go out into the open. 

“Whoever’s stealing bodies, they need to be stopped. They were likely doing it before we got here.” she insisted. 

“And they’ll likely continue doing it after we’re gone.” he said. The calmer he stayed, the angrier she got, and while some past version of him wanted to rise up and meet her emotions, he willed himself to stay in control. One of them had to.

“It’d be the same as killing them ourselves.” she seethed. Her eyes glowed in the firelight, watching for any break in his facade. He should have known from the beginning that she would win; Summer knew everything about him: every strength, every flaw, every joy, and especially every weakness. “If you don’t want to help, I’ll take care of it myself.”

“Enough. You made your point.” he said through gritted teeth. Dammit, he hated when she did that. “It’s stupid of us to do this. But I won’t let you do it alone.”

He wasn’t awarded with a smile. Instead, he got a curt nod. She reached up and grabbed a map off the counter, the fire giving it a red glow as she laid it out on the floor. Black lines snaked across the map - a local one, likely lifted from the same corner store as the girl - ending in either O’s or X’s that used to be O’s. She’d been working on this long before she roped him into it. 

“This is my last hypothetical location.” she said, pointing to a circle on the opposite side of town from their humble home. “There may be more, but I haven’t been able to thoroughly research them.” 

He didn’t need to ask how she found these spots. Her tracking skills were unparalleled in Hydra, even amongst the later models of super soldiers. “So you went to all these areas by yourself?” he asked, waving a hand at all the X’s.

“Dead ends.” she replied with a shrug.

“It could have been a live end.” he said, putting a hand on her arm, his protective side rearing its head. Did she really think all he cared about was the information? “And you wouldn’t have had backup.”

He phrased it as if it were a flaw in her battle strategy, but she could hear the undertones he hadn’t quite figured out how to voice. He was  _ worried _ about her. “I’m fine.”

“No more missions without me.” he said, this time managing to sound a little more tender. His grip relaxed, but he couldn’t let go of her. The thought of all those times she could have wandered into danger without him there to help made the breath freeze in his lungs faster than any subzero temperatures. She put her hand over his, and at first he thought she was going to pull it off her arm, but instead she just held it.

“I’m sorry.” she said, her brows twitching like the words felt foreign to her. 

“No apologies.” he reminded her. Once they started, they’d never stop. He held her gaze, the space between them filling with all the things they’d never say, and eventually he had to look away before the dam broke. “So we go tonight?”

“Yes. While the trail is still relatively fresh.” she said. To a normal human, the trail would be long cold by now. After all, they had no idea when the girl was actually taken. But Summer was not a normal human, and now she was invested. 

Winter always knew the serum enhanced both their good and bad qualities, and unfortunately her stubbornness was just a touch stronger than his. 

He layered on his cold weather gear, grateful that at least the clothing would allow for some level of anonymity. A few knives found their homes on the outermost layer, but most of the weapons hid underneath. The heavier clothing would be shed once they found the place they were looking for, and in the case of an emergency, left behind. They needed weapons on hand for both before and after infiltration. 

It took longer to clear enough snow and open the window wide enough for Winter, his broad shoulders proving difficult to navigate through the narrow opening. It took a fair bit of serious and intimidating  _ wiggling _ for him to force himself through, and even over the howl of the wind outside he could swear he heard an actual giggle from the woman behind him. In the end, it took a literal swift kick to his rear to get his hips through, and if it weren’t for his superhuman reflexes, he might have faceplanted on the snow. Even with the reflexes, it was still a near miss. Summer slipped through with no hesitation, barely even touching the edges of the opening. Her parka covered her mouth, but he could tell from the skin around her eyes that she was smiling. 

“Stop it.” he growled, his own cover muffling what little heat he could put into the words. Summer held up her hands.

“I said nothing. Let’s go.” she replied trudging past him, her light feet making indents in the snow. The falling flurries filled the banks soon enough, and for once he didn’t have to worry about leaving a trail. Sometimes, nature actually came through for him.

The blizzard made their trek slow and careful, but it also limited the number of people that might spot them. The moon might have been high in the sky by the time they made it to the place on Summer’s map, but with the dark clouds still hanging over them it was impossible to tell. They found a shack not unlike their own: quiet, unassuming, and covered in snow. The only difference was that someone had dug out a path to the door. Winter pulled out a knife, going to the doorknob and checking to see if it was unlocked. When it didn’t budge, he forced the blade into the narrow space, popping back the bolt. It was eerily silent as the door swung open into a dark, empty room. Dust covered most surfaces, except for an obvious dark streak where something wet got dragged to the back of the house. The wood creaked as the cold air reached the moisture left in it, the noise especially loud in the empty space.

“Blood?” Summer asked from behind him, her own knife at the ready. Winter touched the floor, feeling the way it gave slightly at his touch, and the way the cold air made it spring back. 

“Water.” he said, the relief taking the tightness in his shoulders down one degree. “Probably snow from her clothes.”

“So we’ve found the right place.” she said, checking behind them once more. 

“You found the right place. I’m just along for the ride.” he said, taking a few experimental steps into the house. A rotting smell that had nothing to do with the damp wood swirled in the air, not quite strong enough to pinpoint a location. Yet. 

“Traps?” she asked, her back nearly against his as they moved into the house. It was easy to coordinate their movements still, even without the control of the words. He glanced around quickly, eyeing the door jamb and windows, and when he couldn’t find anything he shook his head, feeling hers behind him.

“Appears abandoned. Safe to disrobe.” he said. She closed the door silently, and with equal noiselessness removed her bulky outer layers. Winter did the same, both of them taking their weapons and strapping them to their places on their body. Summer was mildly concerned that their retreat would be too hasty for the coats, but unfortunately they would likely have to make a quick exit that did not allow for redressing. She sighed, gazing longingly at the warm clothing one last time before following Winter into the house. 

The scent was stronger towards the back of the house, practically seeping from the very floorboards. Nothing greeted them at the far wall except for a crude door in the ground leading to a basement. Summer and Winter shared a glance before pulling out bigger knives; the pistols would be more efficient, but if they went in guns blazing there was a higher likelihood of any victims that were still alive getting hurt. They would have to take care of things the old fashioned way. 

The smell of rot hit them like a ton of bricks when Winter opened the door, causing them both to gag and cover their faces as the stench bombarded them. If this wasn’t the place they were looking for, then it was sure as hell some sort of murder house. The smell told of multiple bodies, and in a small space. They’d probably been there an especially long time as well. Winter took the stairs first, keeping his elbow over his face as he tried to habituate to the smell, his eyes watering at the ferocity of it. The basement was as small and cramped as suspected, one single lightbulb illuminating most of it. 

The first thing they noticed was the stack of bodies in the corner, all at varying stages of decomposition. Towards the top was the boy from the grocery and the twin from the restaurant, their bodies carved to pieces. They quickly moved on from that; clearly they were in the right place, and without the technology Hydra had employed in the mountains, they did not need to worry about the dead rising again. Their attention quickly shifted to a man in the middle of the room. His long, patchy hair was matted with gore, and the overcoat he wore might have been white once, but was now stained beyond recognition. He turned towards them with glee in his large eyes, made bug-like by the thick glasses he wore. Luckily they were saved from his smile by a surgical mask that appeared to be homemade.

“Ah! Finally! I was wondering when you would show up!” he said, dropping his tools onto the table in front of him. There, unconscious, laid the girl from the corner store. Summer and Winter stiffened; he knew who they were? He was  _ expecting _ them? He pulled off the thick rubber gloves - the yellow kind often used for cleaning - and tossed them onto the table next to the tools, not caring that the fingers were now resting inside the girl’s open abdomen. “I mean, I didn’t think it would be you. Either one of you. I thought they would send someone lesser. But to get both of the Soldiers! I’m so pleased to meet you. Come in, come in.”

He tried to shake Winter’s hand, but Winter roughly pulled his arm back and stepped in front of Summer, showing the man the business end of his knife. “No.” he said sharply in Russian. The man, undeterred, held up his hands and laughed. He wasn’t nearly as nervous as he should have been.

“Right, of course, I’m sorry.” he said, stepping away. A strong scent cut through the decomposition - his mask was probably soaked in something so that he couldn’t smell it. “I suppose you want to know what’s going on, hm? That’s why Hydra sent you back?”

_ Back?  _ Winter glanced over his shoulder, and when his eyes met Summer’s she nodded. “Yes.”

“Splendid! It’s rather fascinating research, I have it all recorded here-” he picked up a thick notebook, the pages stained red in places. There were multiple volumes stacked underneath it. “Important to write everything down, you know. Otherwise you end up forgetting things. But I digress! People in this region seem to have some sort of genetic advantage when it comes to climate tolerance, and I am determined to find it so that it can be harnessed and used in your great work!”

Winter tried not to bristle at the reference to Hydra’s  _ great work _ , and nearly succeeded. “Then why not just analyze blood?” he asked. He was able to disguise his voice better than his body, his tone just as flat as it was when they first told him the words. 

“Well we have to see how the gene manifests, of course. Does it change the fat distribution? Can it be up or down regulated? Does it change metabolic rates, or change them in different parts of the body? So many questions, I wrote them all down!” Once again he gestured at his stack of books, which seemed to be too numerous for the number of bodies in the corner. 

“How long have you been...conducting this research?” Winter asked. He might have been interviewing this man, as if he really were sent by Hydra to check up on him. But really he was so appalled by the state of the basement that he couldn’t help asking questions. If the man had once been Hydra, he wasn’t anymore, and one had to be a special kind of terrible to be sent away.

“Why, ever since Mr. Strucker sent me here six months ago. I must admit, I thought you would want to see the fruits of my labors a bit sooner, but no matter! Changing the world keeps us busy, I know.” the man rambled. The name  _ Strucker _ made something tingle in the back of his mind, but Winter couldn’t place it. Behind him, Summer prodded his back with the flat edge of her knife; this man was dangerous, and if he had actual ways to contact Hydra...the man suddenly lifted his arms, turning in a flurry. “And of course! I forgot about the device! Strucker told me that it might be important someday but-”

Winter did not care to see this device he spoke of. He threw his knife, the blade finding its place at the back of the man’s neck, severing his spinal cord. He dropped heavily to the ground, his body knocking over the stack of books and various equipment piled around.

Including a black communications device.

The device was old; the last time Winter had seen one was the mission to assassinate Howard Stark. But unfortunately, when it fell to the ground and bounced across the sticky concrete floor, the red light started blinking. The damn thing still worked. Fucking Nazi engineering.

“We need to go.” Winter said, turning on his heel and running headlong into Summer. She’d expected his movement, and put her hands out both to stop him and keep herself from tumbling over.

“The girl.” she said, shoving past him and running to the table. Blood pooled under the would-be scientist, but he was no longer breathing. Summer put her hand to the girl’s neck, trying to find a pulse. She put an ear to her bloody chest, but even from his position by the door Winter could see that the girl was not breathing. Summer screeched in frustration, slamming her fist into the table and causing it to splinter. Winter sympathized with her rage, wanted to scream himself that once again they were left with nothing but death, but it was not something they could afford right now.

“She’s gone. We need to leave.” he insisted, grabbing her elbow. When she didn’t move, he tightened his grip, pulling her more forcefully. “Summer.”   


“Yes, sir.” she snapped, wrenching her arm away and, in her anger, forgetting that she wasn’t supposed to  _ sir  _ him anymore. He didn’t comment on it, instead focusing on getting out of that house. He didn’t wait for her to move, instead using his metal arm to sling her in front of him, giving her a head start. 

They did not care about covering their tracks as they ran back to the house, the wind and ice biting into them thanks to their less-than-appropriate clothing. The coats, as Summer feared, were long forgotten back in that demented mess of a lab. Winter used his metal hand to slam open the door of their house, the warmth of the fire no longer comforting as they rushed inside. He quickly packed what belongings they still had, stuffing the food Summer brought earlier into her bag. He turned, intent on telling her which direction they would go next, but the words left him as he saw her standing in front of the fire. 

Her back was to him, her arms wrapped around her middle as if she sustained the same injury as the girl from the table. Her shoulders did not shake, but they were certainly tense, and her map was crumpled in her fist. Her whole body was tense, really. He put down the bags, slowly joining her in the warmth, though the heat felt empty now. He put a hand on the small of her back, the chill seeping through her clothes.

“We’re alive.” he said. It was the only thing he could think to say. “We’re still alive. We’re still trying.” 

She shook her head, her messy blonde hair helping to hide part of her face. A chunk of it was stained red from listening to the girl’s chest. She took a deep, shuddering breath, with her lips parted and her chest shaking, and for a brief moment she looked beautifully, devastatingly human. He hated that he had to push her, had to force her to compartmentalize right now. But he would hate even more if they were captured.

“We have to go.” he said, for what felt like the thousandth time. She curled her fists even tighter, holding them tight against her body.

“I know.” she whispered. He watched as she pieced herself back together, back into the Summer he recognized. “I’m just tired of being fucking cold.”

He didn’t chastise her for her language this time, instead just giving in to the weak side of him and pulling her to his chest. She didn’t relax, didn’t curl into him as she had before. She knew that this was not the time for that.

“I know.” he murmured into her hair. He promised himself then, that someday he would get her somewhere warm. But it would not be today. Today, they had to keep going through the snow, and continue to run for their freedom. 

Without another word, they grabbed their backpacks - which got lighter with every break in their terrible road trip - and left the house one last time. They left the fire roaring, either to give someone else a reprieve from the cold or to burn the house down, they didn’t care. They simply steeled themselves against the flurries, bowed into the wind, and continued on their trek. 


	39. Jealous - November 25, 1943

**Chapter 39: Jealous**

**November 25, 1943**

Bucky never thought he’d spend Thanksgiving in a bar - no,  _ pub _ \- in the middle of London, but here he was. 

After all the packing and traveling and organizing and finagling his way into the same little apartment building as Lu, he started to think that maybe his stamina hadn’t quite recovered from his stint in the cages. Not to mention being forced to actually stay in his own room in a new place led to all sorts of fun and inventive nightmares to disturb his sleep, which did not help the lack of stamina. But every time he saw how excited Steve was and how ready he was to take on this grand mission, he forgot about his discomfort, and the deeply rooted fear was drowned out by his anger at the men that had hurt him and Lu.

From the dark circles under her eyes and the way she could never quite sit still, he could tell Lu was a little worse for wear too. She confessed that she barely slept at night, that the room was so quiet that she felt like she was stuck alone in that bunker again. Currently, she was posted up on the stool next to him at the bar, taking frequent sips from the glass of whiskey in front of her and bouncing her foot in quick, small motions. 

“You know,” Bucky said, turning so he faced more towards the room (he hated having people behind him now) and resting his elbow on the bartop. “I thought it would be different, but this could be another bar back in Brooklyn.”

“Oh yea?” she asked, giving him half a smile. It was a lame attempt at distracting her, but she appreciated it. “And did you frequent these bars?”

“Of course. I was young and virile and stupid.” he said, flashing a charming grin. She rolled her eyes, but gave him a full smile.

“As opposed to now, where you’re old and decrepit?” she said, perking and eyebrow and, in a bold move, letting her eyes slide down his body for just a moment. She tried to make it seem like she was making a clinical assessment, but he ate the attention up anyway. 

“Old, maybe. Definitely a little smarter. But I promise I’ve still got some virility left.” He winked at her, making a blush rise to her cheeks. But she didn’t look away, instead humming thoughtfully.

“Perhaps we’ll test that theory someday.” she said lightly. Her cheeks and neck were now a brilliant pink as if the flirtation surprised her as well. He let his jaw drop dramatically, putting a hand on his chest.

“Be still my heart, Doc. Such a bawdy dame you are.” he said, giving his best Southern Belle impression and making her choke on her drink in a very ladylike way.

“No, no. You have to be more subtle than that. With much more passive aggression.” she said, taking another sip before putting her glass down. She reached out, laying a tender hand on his, though the touch wasn’t quite affectionate. Her voice had a distinct drawl when she spoke again. “Such talk is unbecoming of your femininity, dear. Bless your heart.”

“But if you bless my heart, that’s not aggressive.” he countered, eliciting a sharp bark of a laugh from her. 

“‘Bless your heart’ is most often a polite, Southern way to say ‘fuck you’.” she explained, draining the last of her drink. He couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head.

“Well, guess it’s a good thing we’re not in Kansas anymore, eh Dorothy?” he asked, shifting their hands so that their fingers intertwined. 

“Thank God.” she replied, squeezing his hand for a moment before letting go, signalling the barkeep for another drink. Bucky couldn’t help but grin at her, the alcohol making the warm-fuzzies in his stomach even warmer and fuzzier as he took in every graceful movement of hers, from her hand circling the glass to the way the rim of it barely kissed her pink-painted lips as she took a sip. It wasn’t quite fair that the glass got to kiss her a thousand times but he had to  _ keep his hands to himself _ . Because they were  _ in public _ and it wasn’t  _ proper _ . Bull shit. 

“So I take it you didn’t spend much time in such  _ tragic establishments _ ?” he asked, once again trying for the Southern touch. When she laughed at the joke, he literally felt his chest get a little bigger.

“I’m afraid not. Closest one was three towns over, and once I moved to Hawaii, it was all about work.” she explained. She pushed on before she could get lost in her thoughts. “Wouldn’t know what to do with myself in one anyways.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Bucky said, sitting up a little straighter. “You - the most beautiful girl in the bar - get to sit and sip a drink until I - the most handsome man in the bar, of course - come up and ask you to dance.”

“Oh yea? No preamble, no introduction?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. The action made her blonde curls fall back, showing the long line of her neck. Damn, maybe he needed to switch to water.

“Well that’s what the first dance is for.” he explained. She used her foot to swing the stool seat in tiny arcs, her body swaying ever so slightly.

“The first one? There’s more?” she said, acting properly shocked and demure. She even clutched at nonexistent pearls. 

“Only if I’m lucky.” he said with a shrug. She pressed her lips together, trying to stifle a smile. In the end, her amusement won, and she broke into giggles. “What?”

“I’m sorry, that just sounds so silly.” she said, holding a hand over her mouth to try and stifle her laughter.

“I promise, it’s a tried and true method.” he defended, realizing too late that maybe he shouldn’t open the conversation to any of his past...dance partners. Luckily, with the alcohol relaxing her a bit, Lu overlooked the implications of the comment.

“Bull shit.” she said, still laughing. He ended up just laughing too, trying to figure out how to get himself out of the hole Lu didn’t know he was in yet. Luckily he was saved by Steve sauntering over with a grin of victory on his face, effectively distracting the both of them. He’d been worried about recruiting the other guys that survived the bunker, but Bucky had spent a long time in close quarters with them, and had been confident from the beginning. 

“See? Told you. They’re all idiots.” he drawled, taking a nice gulp of whiskey to wet his suddenly dry mouth.

“You fit right in.” Lu murmured, her perfect mouth quirked in a smile and a nice tipsy twinkle in her eye. He raised his eyebrows slightly, as if she’d said something naughty instead of sarcastic. It worked, because she blushed and turned back to her drink.

“How ‘bout you?” Steve asked, unable to hear her over the sounds around them. He pulled up a stool on Bucky’s other side, his eyes flitting between the two of them. It occurred to Lu that by  _ you _ he meant the both of them. “You ready to follow ‘Captain America’ into the jaws of death?”

“Hell no.” Bucky said before he could go any further. He understood Steve’s position now, understood that he was different from the last time he saw him the night of the Stark Expo. He respected the position, but he would always just be  _ Steve _ to him. “That little guy from Brooklyn, who was too dumb not to run away from a fight? I’m following him.”

The words seemed to make Steve pause. Clearly he wasn’t used to people seeing the old him - or rather, the real him. Amazing how quickly he’d gotten used to the uniform. Speaking of… “But you’re keeping the outfit, right?”

Lu snorted into her glass, earning amused glances from both of the men. Steve rolled his eyes, catching sight of the poster on the wall that bore his image. “You know what? It’s growing on me.” he said, smiling. He turned to Lu. “You think I should keep it?”

“I have no say in the matter. I’m just here to make sure you boys stay in one piece.” she replied, holding up her hands. Her cheeks had a rosy glow that had nothing to do with Bucky’s earlier flirting. 

“You’ve always got a say.” Steve replied. “Hell, I may trust your opinion more than his.”

“Hey!”

“Then I say keep it.” she said, making Bucky gaze heavenward. He could barely handle both of them separately. Now he was going to have to wrangle both of them at the same time. Like herding cats.

“The motion is seconded, and therefore carried.” Steve said, gesturing with a glass that had appeared in front of him sometime in the last few moments. Bucky and Lu raised theirs, allowing the glasses to clink together in a cheers. Lu couldn’t help but think that this was the kind of camaraderie she’d hoped for in the military; all she needed was Angela, and they would be all set. 

The pub quieted out of nowhere, the joyful singing dying down as if all the men had suddenly lost consciousness. All three of them turned towards the other side of the pub, leaning to see around the wall separating them. A dazzling, dark-haired woman in a red dress that fit like a glove strolled into the doorway, pausing as she spotted the three of them. 

“Alright, prove your  _ tried and true _ method then.” Lu prompted, elbowing Bucky in the ribs. He blinked, feeling like somehow this was a trap. His feelings must have shown on his face, because she laughed again. “I’m just saying, I don’t see it working.”

“Maybe not on you, but that’s because you’re special.” he said. The part of him that sensed something wrong with the challenge was quickly succumbing to the other part of him that wanted to prove he was always right, and the whiskey was only making the transition smoother. He finished his drink, giving her a cocky grin. “But if you insist…”

“Make it a wager.” she said, turning her stool all the way around so she could have a front row seat to the show. Her smile made it obvious that the winner would get the same prize as their previous bet, back in Italy. Bucky stood, noticing with annoyance that Steve was now slightly taller than him. Great, so now not only was he going to hit on a woman that he didn’t really care to hit on, but he was going to have  _ competition _ . That was fine. He’d prove his point, and then spend the rest of the night gloating and dancing with the woman he  _ actually _ wanted to dance with.

“Captain.” the red dress said, looking straight past Bucky to Steve. Uh oh.

“Agent Carter.” Steve said, trying (and failing) to sound professional. Oh, so  _ this _ was Agent Carter? Double uh-oh. 

“Ma’am.” Bucky said quietly, his mouth dry for a completely different reason now. She gave Bucky a quick once over as she walked by, and, apparently unimpressed, continued to Steve. Behind him, he could swear Lu was trying to turn a giggle into a cough. The back of his neck burned with embarrassment, but he shook it off.

“Howard has some new equipment for you to try.” she said to Steve,  _ also _ trying to pretend to be professional. They were playing some weird game of cat and mouse here, and Bucky didn’t care for it. “Tomorrow morning?”

“Sounds good.” Steve said. Bucky didn’t know what he was trying to say in the subtitles, but it definitely felt weird to be overlooked at this moment. Agent Carter turned back to him, her eyes bright and calculating. Steve tore his eyes from her, glancing once at Bucky with some unreadable expression on his face. Bucky couldn’t help but smirk, dropping his gaze for a moment before turning back to Agent Carter.

“I see your top squad is prepping for duty.” she remarked to Steve, unimpressed by the loud, drunken song echoing from the other side of the pub. If Bucky wanted to win this little bet, he needed to act fast.

“You don’t like music?” he asked. This would certainly change his tactics, but he could work with this, especially if it won him a kiss from Lu whenever he wanted it. Which was, coincidentally, right now.

“I do, actually.” she said, her accented voice soft and seductive. But she wasn’t talking to him. No, she was still looking right at Steve like they were going for the World Record staring contest. “I might even, when this is all over, go dancing.” The way she said it made it obvious that this was some sort of inside joke, and Bucky was not privy to it.

“Then what are we waiting for?” he tried. If he was honest it was not his best line, but it was the best he could come up with at the moment. Behind him, Lu was now silent. Even the squeaking of her stool had stopped. 

“For the right partner.” Agent Carter said, still fucking looking at Steve. Bucky might be proud of his boy if he wasn’t about to lose the easiest bet ever. Since when did he have trouble pulling women? Stupid serum. “Oh-eight-hundred, Captain.” she said, turning on her heel and striding away before Steve could answer.

“Yes ma’am. I’ll be there.” he called after her, his voice a touch deeper than when he was talking to them earlier. Bucky closed his eyes for a second, preparing himself for the ridicule he would have to face when he turned around. 

“I’m invisible. I’m turning into you, this is a horrible dream.” he said, laughing incredulously. God, how did he end up with a woman like Lu when now he couldn’t even get a girl to dance with him? He’d never live this down. 

“I think you’re fine.” Steve said, clapping him on the shoulder. Bucky sighed, girding his loins and turning to face the victor. But instead of smiles and bragging, Lu’s face was blank, her once pink cheeks now pale.

“I, um, think I’m going to go back to the apartments.” she said, so quiet that he was surprised he could understand her. She stood, wobbling on her heels for a moment before grabbing her coat and bag.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern clouding over everything else swimming in his brain. 

“I’m fine.” she said swiftly, her voice cracking ever so slightly on the second word. Bucky glanced at Steve, who looked just as confused.

“Let me walk you…” by the time he got the words out, she was no longer next to him. He swore and grabbed his own coat, but by the time he turned around, Lu was already halfway to the door, weaving between patrons with the practiced ease of someone used to being in crowded places. 

“Doc!” he called after her, not knowing if it was loud enough for her to hear. He tried again, louder this time. “Doc!”

She didn’t stop, reaching the front door and quickly escaping into the chilly night. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe she’d just had a little too much to drink and needed some fresh air. Lord knew Bucky had experienced that enough times - enough to know that she would probably end up needing someone to hold back her hair. He wrestled his way through the rowdy guys, wondering if they were purposefully getting in his way as he tried to get out. He stumbled onto the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding running into another couple walking home, and twisted his head back and forth until he spotted Lu purposefully walking back to their apartments, right where she said she was going. Stupid whiskey made him forget that for a second. He took off at a sprint, and despite how loud his leather-soled shoes were on the concrete, Lu kept walking, even speeding up as he got closer. He finally caught up, taking her elbow and pulling her around.

“Doc, are - what’s wrong?” his stomach dropped as he saw tears streaking down her face, her eyes glassy as they filled with more. She shook her head, looking down at her shoes. A couple drops landed on the concrete, forming two perfect circles of sadness.

“Nothing, I’m okay.” she said, shaking her head. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest and she appeared to be shivering, though he had a feeling it wasn’t from the cold. She turned and kept walking, this time at a normal pace and allowing him to keep up.

“You’re very clearly not okay. What did I do?” he asked. She pressed her lips together and shook her head again, not trusting herself to speak. He skipped ahead of her, holding her arms and halting her progress. “Just tell me what I did and how I can make it up to you. I’m a big boy, I can handle it.” he said. His heart was beating erratically. Did seeing Agent Carter remind her of what she signed up for? Was she regretting her decision to come with him now? Was she regretting her decision to  _ be _ with him now?

“You didn’t do anything wrong. At all. These are just whiskey tears, Barnes, don’t worry.” she said, sidestepping him and continuing on. She reached the steps up to their building, opening the door and starting the climb to the second floor. 

“You’re crying. I’m going to worry.” he said, staying right next to her. With shaky hands she fumbled with her keys, her fingers so unsteady that he ended up gently taking them from her and unlocking her flat door for her. She took one step in and stopped, as if wondering whether or not to invite him. He made up her mind for her. “If you’ve just had too much, at least let me make you some coffee.” 

She looked like she wanted to say no, but surprised him by saying, “Okay.” He nodded and followed her in, making sure to close and lock the door behind them before distracting himself in the kitchen. Once the percolator was going he went to her, taking her coat and running his hands over her arms in a soothing manner.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured. If he didn’t know the problem, he couldn’t fix it. And he damned well needed to fix it. She still looked at her shoes, toeing at a scuff on the floor. Her tears had stopped, but her voice was still thick with emotion.

“I’m just an idiot. I don’t know what I was expecting.” she said quietly, sounding chagrined more than sad now. Bucky furrowed his brows, trying to make sense of her statement. The last thing they were talking about was…

“Is this about the bet?” he asked, confused. “I mean, you won, Doc. You won fair and square. Why would that upset you?”

“It wasn’t-” she paused, squeezing her eyes shut to keep from crying more. “I didn’t think it would be so painful to watch you flirt with her.”

“Wait, you were jealous?” he asked, genuinely surprised. That was the wrong response, as she finally met his eyes with a vicious glare.

“No, of course not.” she snapped, her answer way too fast. He knew she was upset, but he couldn’t stop the grin from forming.

“You were jealous.” he said, a statement this time. “Well hot damn, Doc, hell just might be freezing over. I didn’t take you for the jealous type.”

“I wasn’t jealous!” she said. “I just didn’t like seeing you talk to her. Or ask her to dance. Or think about you two dancing. Or about the girls you’ve danced with before. Or the girls you’ve…It just made me realize that I could lose...” she stopped there before she said too much. Bucky knew, logically, that there was a few years between them. But he didn’t really notice it until that moment. He took her face in his hands, making her look at him.

“Hey, listen. You’ve got nothing to be jealous of. I told you, you’re stuck with me.” he said, using his thumbs to wipe away the last of her tears. “Why would you doubt that?”

“Because you’ve got so much more  _ experience _ than me.” she said, the alcohol making her tongue looser. “And I’m afraid I won’t be up to snuff.”

“Bull shit.” It was his turn to say it this time. “ _ Experience _ means nothing. All that matters is you and me.”

“You say that, but when it comes down to it, there’s things that you’ve done that I haven’t and what if I’m not…” There was not enough whiskey left to make her brave enough for the end of that sentence, but Bucky could fill in the gaps on his own. “Can I...ask a personal question?”

“Anything.” he said, as if that wasn’t the worst question to get from a girlfriend.

“How many girls have you…?” she left the sentence hanging, once again unable to finish it. He let out a long breath, wishing he’d finished his  _ and _ Steve’s drink before running after her earlier.

“Four.” he said. He felt the need to explain that he wasn’t some lothario, even if he knew men that were exponentially more  _ experienced _ than him. “A high school sweetheart. A college girlfriend. And two moments of weakness between getting drafted and getting deployed to the front lines.”

“Huh.” she said, nodding as if the number were lower than she expected. He decided not to mention the women that he just hadn’t gone all the way with. She mumbled something to herself, and even with his new, weirdly good sense of hearing, he only caught the words  _ compare to _ .

“Doc, with the way I feel about you, there will be  _ no _ comparison.” he said, meaning it with every fiber of his being. Honestly he couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. After all the shit they’d been through,  _ this _ was what she worried about? “As far as I’m concerned, there’s you. And only you.”

She looked up at him through her lashes, pink once again flooding her face. She leaned into him, pressing her lips to his tenderly. Her lips were salty from her tears, and when she deepened the kiss, he could taste the remnants of whiskey on her tongue. Her hands, previously resting on his chest, slid down to his waist, her fingertips lightly squeezing into the space between his belt and his trousers.

“Doc…” he said, hating himself for interrupting. She didn’t heed him, only kissed him again, her fingers suddenly more sure as she undid the belt. He stilled her hands, stepping away from her. “Doc.”

“What?” she asked, her voice husky and her hands still holding either end of his belt. It was unbearably sexy, but he forced himself to maintain the space between them. “You don’t want to?”

God dammit. “Not like this.” he said, shaking his head. In his head he knew this was the right decision, even if other parts of his body were vehemently protesting. “Not until I think you actually want it.”

“I…” her mouth stayed open as she tried to make herself speak. But after a moment of silence, she sighed and put her head against his chest, her voice muffled as she said, “I am so embarrassed right now.”

“Don’t be.” he said, holding her tightly. A twitch in his low back told him his body was still hoping his mind would be a little less of a traitor, but he shut that down quickly. He knew from personal experiences that whiskey and tears did  _ not _ make for a fun night. He also knew it was best to keep that piece of information for himself. “When you’re ready -  _ actually  _ ready - then I promise we can.”

Lu was silent for a long moment before whispering into his shirt, “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” he said, pressing a kiss to her head. “C’mon, it’s late, and we gotta get up and at ‘em in the morning.”

“Will you stay tonight?” she asked, looking up at him in innocence. He perked an eyebrow, giving her a meaningful look and hoping that it wasn’t too soon to return to their normal banter. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “No funny business, I swear.” she mocked the words he’d used so many times in the hospital and at the villa. “I just can’t sleep without you.”

“Funny, I can’t sleep without you.” he said, kissing her forehead and both cheeks before finally claiming her lips in a sweet kiss. “Go change, I’ll take care of this.” he said, nodding his head towards the coffee. It was now ready, but neither one of them needed it. She went behind the partition to change into her night clothes, completely unaware that the slim light of the moon enabled him to see the vague outline of her. Once again, a less-attended-to part of his body howled at his brain’s betrayal, but it was forced into silence when he accidentally poured burning coffee over his hand. A few curses and grumbles later and he was back at baseline, and able to undress and crawl under the covers with Lu. She felt so small curled up against him, her fingers laced with his as if she were afraid to let go. Gone were thoughts of sex; instead, he just wanted to protect her, to hold her and keep the dreams away so she could rest. 

That other stuff could wait until later. This, he knew, was what made it the real thing.


	40. Fire and Rain - April 7, 2015

**Chapter 40: Fire and Rain**

**April 7, 2015**

They hadn’t meant to go this far north. Then again, they also hadn’t meant to accidentally wander across the border into Moldova, but sometimes state lines were tricky, and a few of them had changed over the years.

After a raised alarm and four hundred miles of literal running, Summer could feel a change in the air that had nothing to do with elevation, latitude, or fatigue. Winter had set them on this path, and as they ran through the overgrown, empty streets, she remembered why he would aim for this location. Their pursuers had stopped a few miles back, but they hadn’t stopped running, only slowing to a walk when they reached an area of the city completely covered in green. Deer and wolves wandered around the man made structures and flocks of birds settled on the rusted street signs, their feathers covering what was left of the white Ukrainian names painted on them. Winter confidently led her through the empty city into the open area of the countryside, where she realized he was aiming for a little house up on a hill. The grass was up to her waist and made her feel like she was wading through water, but somehow that made her feel safer. If it was slowing them down, with their super strength, then it would certainly slow down and ordinary humans.

They finally reached the front of the house, taking in a few hard breaths and feeling the shift as their bodies went into overdrive. Winter kicked in the door while Summer went behind the house, checking the area for any unlikely signs of life. They were far from the borders of the Black Map, far from true safety, but as Summer stood on the back porch of the dilapidated house and spotted the Chernobyl nuclear reactor in the distance, she figured this was as safe as they could be for now. She could hear Winter in the house, clearing out any animals that had taken up residence and making sure the space was livable for now. She knew she should help him, but something about standing there on top of that hill and seeing so much safe, open space kept her rooted to her spot. Even when the back door opened, she still didn’t move.

“Come inside.” Winter said softly, a request instead of an order. Summer glanced at him over her shoulder; he looked tired. As tired as she felt.

“I can take first watch.” she found herself saying. She wanted to stay a little longer, at least until the sun went down. The radiation, still in the area after all this time, made the sky turn strange and beautiful colors in ways that she could only see with her enhanced vision. She couldn’t even imagine what the sunset would look like.

“We both need rest.” he said, reaching out a hand and resting it on her waist. “Come inside.”

She took one last, lingering look, then turned with a sigh. He was right, she knew that. But it didn’t mean she had to like it. The house was cool and dark, with dust still dancing in the air where Winter had shaken out the linens covering furniture. The previous owners clearly had plans to return, but they were so deep into the exclusion zone that it would likely be millenia before the area was habitable again. Summer realized, with an oddly deep sense of joy, that here they would get to sleep on an actual  _ bed _ . They hadn’t had a bed since the little flat in London, which felt like ages ago. She looked to Winter, who gave her as big a smile as he could muster as he started stripping off his weapons. She quickly followed suit, leaving both of them clad only in underclothes with their knives and guns discarded for the moment. In an uncharacteristic moment of laxity, Winter nearly threw himself onto the bed, the heavy wooden frame creaking with the sudden weight after so many years. Summer couldn’t help but laugh, joining him. The bed was old, and a little musty, and not particularly soft - and it was absolutely perfect. 

It was hard to breathe, but she didn’t care. She’d rather struggle from radiation rather than the paralyzing fear of being found. She rolled into Winter, wrapping herself in him. Somehow, her body remembered the perfect way for them to fit together, as if they’d lain this way their whole lives. They had a brief moment of respite. 

“You need to shave.” she murmured, the scruff (though it was a bit too long to call it that) of his cheek scratching her forehead as he laid his head against hers. He hummed, the sound sending vibrations through her.

“Haven’t had time.” he said, rubbing his cheek against her skin. She shifted away from the contact, making a noise of indignance. “What, don’t care for it?”

“Feels weird.” she replied. She didn’t think he would like to hear how it felt like a hundred needles poking into her, and thus kept that fact to herself. 

“I’ll shave later. Promise.” he said, moving his chin to the top of her head so that she wouldn’t feel the facial hair. She snuggled - when was the last time she  _ snuggled _ ? - into him, breathing in the warmth and safety of his closeness. For a moment, they could pretend they weren’t fugitives. For a moment, they could simply  _ be _ . 

Sleep came easy, even though the sun was still high in the sky. They didn’t have to worry about being followed, or worry about being found. For once, the nightmares didn’t come. The radiation, still deadly at this location, would keep the Hydra agents at bay for now. It had been a long time since they’d had a sleep this deep.

A change in the air pressure woke them, and despite the challenge of the environment they awoke refreshed. They were still in the same position they’d fallen asleep in, parts of them numb from not moving, and parts of them very much awake. Winter nuzzled Summer’s hair, getting her to wake up fully and give him attention. His facial hair still bit into her when they kissed, and despite the chord of  _ good _ that still strummed when his lips met hers, she couldn’t handle the increased sensory input. She pulled back, and he immediately stopped his motions.

“Alright?” he asked, his brows pinching ever so slightly. She ran her thumb over his face, the only time the hair didn’t overwhelm her.

“This is too much for me.” she said, tugging lightly on the beard. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly and he nodded; he understood how it was, to literally feel too much. 

“I’ll get rid of it.” he said decisively. He wasn’t sure how; he had no razor and no mirror, but he’d find a way. Summer rolled away from him, not bothering to put her clothes back on before stepping back out onto the porch, facing west. The sun was already halfway down over the horizon, painting the sky such brilliant colors that for a moment she had trouble breathing, for reasons not to do with the radiation. Dark clouds were rolling in behind them - the storm always seemed to follow them - and the sun turned them deep shades of purple and grey and blue. Winter came to stand beside her, taking in the sight as well. The colors reflected on his skin, turning it into abstract art. She looked at him for a long time, committing the image to memory. She wished she could draw it, or photograph it, just in case something happened to make her forget it. 

“You’re missing it.” he whispered, making her meet his eyes. The sun turned them different colors as well, gold and greens and oranges joining with the icy blue. Perhaps it was the fatigue, or the adrenaline crash, or the low level radiation poisoning, but the whole thing seemed magical. This was how life was supposed to be, she realized. This was what Hydra had taken away from them. 

They sat there as the colors changed and deepened and darkened. When the sky was half inky blue and half raincloud grey, Winter went inside and opened the chimney, building a roaring fire in the hearth. Summer stayed outside, feeling the change in the pressure as the clouds moved. There would be no lightning this time, no thunder. She could tell that at least. When the sky finally opened up, the rain fell heavy and steady against the tin roof, running off into the tall grass. She stuck her hand out, feeling the water fall over her skin. It felt so good that she stuck her whole arm out into it, soon giving up and moving until she could feel the rain in its entirety. Her underclothes felt limiting, preventing every inch of her skin from reaching the rain, so in a moment of pure abandonment she removed them and stood naked, letting the earth cleanse her. Despite all the dangers of the area, from the poison in the air to the unchecked wildlife, Summer could not remember feeling more free. The rain washed her sins from her, letting all her bad memories run from her mind and down into the land below her. It would all be back come morning, but for now she was simply a woman in the rain. 

She heard Winter picking his way through the marshy ground, joining her in the deluge. She could smell the remnants of the fire on him, the scent gently diminishing as the water cleansed him as well. She finally opened her eyes, seeing him watching her with a smoldering gaze. Water clung to his hair and eyelashes and beard, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he kept his eyes on hers before wordlessly handing her his smallest knife. She took it without question, moving close and using one finger to tilt his chin up. He was completely still as she placed the knife against his throat, trusting her completely as she started cutting. 

Slowly, steadily, letting the rain wash away the debris, she used the sharp knife as a straight razor and shaved his face. Had she done this before? She couldn’t remember, though the movements felt relatively natural. He kept still except for his eyes, which wandered unashamedly over her hands and face and body as she tilted his head this way and that, getting his face at the right angle to do her work. Their chests barely touched, a fact of which she was acutely aware. But she had a job to do, and she would complete it. 

She ran her fingers over his skin, making sure that she hadn’t missed a spot. Sure enough, his face was perfectly smooth, just as it had been all those years. She met his eyes, though she could barely see them; only the light from the fire inside gave them any sort of guide. She slicked his long hair back from his face, her fingers tangling slightly in it. He gave a low growl and she tugged his hair just a little harder, getting him to raise his face again. His hand snaked over her hip and up her back, pulling her closer. She leaned forward, locating the pulse point from his carotid artery, and carefully pressed her lips to the now smooth skin. 

The effect was immediate. His other hand went to her wrist, bending it just right to get her to drop the knife. The movement did not hurt, it only heightened her excitement. The rain falling helped dull some of her senses, letting her focus on the ones she cared about. He crushed her to his chest, moving his face so that he could kiss her soundly. Her hands went to his cheeks, relishing in the feel of his skin against hers. The metal of his left hand was shockingly cold, but she didn’t care. In fact, when he went to his knees and buried his face between her legs, she forgot about the cold and the wind and the pain of the past seventy years. 

Winter tried to take her back to the house, but she stopped him at the steps, wanting to stay under the pouring rain as they let themselves go. He was only happy to oblige, taking any chance he could to let her feel his newly shaved face in every part of her body. Perhaps it was the radiation making their minds feverish, but actually being able to stay out in the open instead of hiding and creeping and running was liberating and intoxicating. They stayed out there late into the night, until their bodies and the rainclouds were both spent and the night held no sounds except their labored breaths and the drip of water from the roof. Only then did Summer concede to returning inside, hanging her wet underclothes on the mantle before settling in front of the fire herself. Winter built it up again before settling next to her, his knee resting against hers. Now she wasn’t the only one that was cold. 

The fire was able to thaw their bones, but even when warm there was a low level of malaise hanging on. Regular humans could not set foot in this area,and even with their enhancements Summer and Winter could not survive the environment long either. They knew this, but both refused to say it. 

“Maybe we could just stay here.” Summer said quietly, wrapping a quilt around her shoulders and leaning against Winter. He put his cheek against her forehead, still trying to get her warm. He could never quite take the chill away from her it seemed.

“We’ll die.” he said. There was no fear in his voice, no urgency. It was simply a matter of fact.

“Perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad. We would get to be happy. Free. Go on our own terms.” she said. She didn’t believe the words even as she said them, and knew that they would never take that path. It wasn’t a bad dream, though. Certainly not the worst she’d had.

“They’d find a way in. They always do.” Winter whispered. “And if I’m going to die, I’d rather do it fighting than just waiting.”

“I know.” Summer said, sighing heavily. Her stomach was churning ever so slightly, her skin a pinkish hue that had nothing to do with the fire or their earlier activities. “Me too.”

Winter nodded, glad that at least they agreed there. He got up, his warmth immediately missed as Summer pulled the quilt even tighter around herself. He tossed more logs on the fire, building it up far bigger than necessary, before returning to her. However, he didn’t sit down; instead, he grabbed the back of the quilt with his left hand, dragging her over to the bed.

“It’s time to rest.” he said. Summer nodded, finding a way to stand up without unraveling herself. The bed was even more comfortable than the first time, and with Winter’s solid weight next to her, she was able to go to sleep. 

They woke with the sun again, this time as it rose. Something was humming; at first, they thought it was a misplaced log, or perhaps some bugs out in the overgrowth, but further inspection found it to be the television in the corner. Summer eyed it warily as Winter moved closer, his eyes sharp as he tried to figure out how the contraption worked, and why it would make that noise.

“Perhaps it just does that in the mornings.” she said, not believing her own lie. Winter shook his head.

“Something’s amiss.” he said, looking around the back of it. When he stepped back, the screen flickered, showing some type of skull that almost looked like a Hydra. Summer reacted, grabbing a knife from the floor and flinging it towards the box. Despite her strength, it merely cracked the thick glass in front of it, making the skull laugh.

“I’m not your enemy,” the skull said, the red lights that made his eyes blinking with mirth. “But I do know who your enemy is.”

“Who are you?” Winter asked roughly, pulling a pistol and pointing it at the screen. Again, the skull chuckled, as if he were amused by some childish antics. 

“I am.” he said, the words tickling the back of both of their minds. They’d heard  _ I Am _ before, but not in this context. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to harm you, or to lead them to you. In fact, I shall lead them  _ away _ from you. After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“Why?” Summer asked. She had her pistol now too, the sight trained on the skull’s left eye. Far away, somewhere to the south, a deep rumbling seemed to shake the earth to its core. The television screen flickered again, and the skull let out an annoyed sigh. 

“I have plans, little ones. Plans for everything, and everyone.” he said. He hummed lowly, then tilted his head, as if he were listening for something. “Enjoy freedom while you can.” 

Winter, not taking kindly to the thinly veiled threat, opened fire on the television until it was nothing but a mess of glass and wires and sparks. The sparks caught on the thin rug, making it smoke. They stood for a moment, watching as the smoke grew and small flames started to rise. They could stomp it out, if they wanted. They could stomp it out, pretend this all never happened, and continue their morning. But neither one of them were designed to let a threat lie.

The rumbling stayed the same volume and consistency. Wherever the epicenter was, it was very far, as they couldn’t even feel the aftershocks from it yet. Instead of moving to stop the fire, Winter started pulling on his clothes, and Summer followed his lead. Her anger grew with the flames; this was their one chance, their one moment where they could breathe, where they didn’t have to worry, where Hydra couldn’t touch them. And yet, somehow, they’d found a way. It had been nearly a year since they had walked away, and she was so, so tired of running. 

But she kept that to herself, pulling on the fire-dried clothes and buckling on all her weapons and gear. They stepped out the front door as the fire really took hold of the house, the beautiful bed making for ample fuel. Luckily the wind was blowing towards them, sending the smoke towards the nuclear plant and away from their intended destination. The wind carried no scent of their pursuers; usually with soldiers, they could smell the tang of gunpowder and the stench of adrenaline. But the breeze carried nothing with it except for fresh spring air.

“If the skull is right, this is our last shot.” she said, looking to Winter. He kept his eyes forward, narrowing in on the rumbling. They couldn’t see anything, but they could certainly hear it.

“It’s time to make a run for it.” he replied. Without looking, he reached over and took her hand, squeezing it tightly. The metal was uncomfortable, but the discomfort grounded her, reminding her exactly who they were and what they’d been through. They’d had a taste of freedom. They deserved far more.

“Let’s go.” she said, jumping off the porch and starting off at a jog. They could still feel the effects of the radiation, but the familiar sensation of a mission soon overtook them. The further south they went, the faster they ran, feeling the ticking clock chasing them. They did not rest, did not stop, until their bodies absolutely required it. A day and a half later, when they were halfway to Romania, they saw it.

The rumbling increased exponentially, the ground shaking enough that they had to watch their steps as they ran. The areas they skirted around were strangely deserted, and now they could see why. In the distance, farther than they could ever travel in a few days, the ground was breaking apart, a large chunk of it floating in the air. Surprised, shocked, and awed at the sight, they both slid to a stop, their eyes taking in the distant sight of a flying city. Aircrafts came and went at alarming rates, with red and blue flashes showing through the smoke. Thunder rolled from the island in waves, lightning striking with precision. The skull’s words made sense then. No one would be looking for Summer and Winter right now, because they would all be looking at the flying city. A being that powerful, if left unchecked, could destroy the world.

But they didn’t have time to think about that. That was not their problem.

Winter grabbed Summer’s belt, pulling her roughly into a run again. Now that the city was in the air, the rumbling had slowed, making their trek easier. If they kept going at this pace, it would only be another day and a half before they reached the Romanian border. If they kept this pace, utilized this distraction, they were a day and a half from freedom. Finally, after all this time running, they could rest.

They just had to get there first. 


	41. Sparkles - January 1, 1944

**Chapter 41: Sparkles**

**January 1, 1944**

Well, happy fucking New Year to Bucky.

He thought for sure the SSR would give them through the holidays before sending them on their first mission, but Nazis waited for no man, and Steve was chomping at the bit to get things moving. So instead of fireworks he got gunfire, and instead of a kiss from his girl he got to put his arms around Falsworth and drag him back to their vehicle. The man assured him that it was just a superficial wound in his leg, but there was a lot of blood for a “glancing shot” and Bucky had a feeling he’d be off his feet for a few days. 

They’d been sent to occupied France, just across the channel and off the coast. Artillery sounds and tank shots echoed from further inland, and Bucky could see it causing Steve physical pain that they couldn’t go and help there too. Bucky, however, was very glad that they didn’t have to travel deeper into the warzone. They had one goal, and one goal only: to fucking obliterate the assholes that nabbed and experimented on them. There was a brief moment, when they kicked down the door to the bunker, where he thought he wouldn’t even be able to walk in. Seeing the set up, with the scientists in the lab coats and all the test tubes and machines, turned his blood to ice and bolted his feet to the floor. If it weren’t for Dugan nudging him in the back, he might still be there - or worse, back in a cage. 

They were still a little rusty trying to work together, but Bucky could see why Steve and Agent Carter hand picked them all. None of them were the best in their fields, but together they were nearly unstoppable. Scientists weren’t equipped to handle an onslaught of trained soldiers, and the few soldiers (if they could call them that) there for security were sorely outmatched. Bucky peppered them all with bullets, telling himself that these weren’t people, they were cogs in an evil machine - a machine that needed to stop. It was the only way for him to carry out the job.

The tank Stark gave them managed to magically turn into a boat at the shore, churning steadily to carry them across the channel. He didn’t know if this victory counted towards the war effort, but he told himself that it did, because otherwise he didn’t know how he could keep going.

Morita was able to patch Falsworth up enough to keep him stable until they made it back to London, the latter man gritting his teeth against every bump from the waves and slice from the wind. Jones did his best to pilot the craft, and Bucky made sure to keep his rifle sight trained at the area behind them, just in case some stragglers managed to survive. Luckily there were no hostages in this bunker, so they didn’t have to worry about burning the entire thing to the ground. They finally pulled into the harbor sometime in the wee hours of the morning, the fog nearly concealing the figure of a woman standing on the boardwalk waiting. Only once they were safely docked did Bucky put down the rifle, flipping on the safety and swinging it over his shoulder. He saw Lu perk up at their movements, and when Steve hoisted Falsworth out of the boat she gestured behind her. Two men in uniform followed her quick steps down the dock, carrying an empty stretcher between them. Lu even ran the last few steps, her eyes quickly flying over all of them as she took in the scene.

“What happened?” she asked Morita, though her eyes wandered to Bucky as soon as the words left her mouth. 

“Just a ricochet, love, I’ll be fine.” Falsworth said, really playing up the British accent for her. Bucky would’ve laughed if Lu didn’t look so serious, her eyes going back to Morita with a question.

“Bullet’s still in there.” Morita deadpanned. She nodded, gesturing at the two uniformed men again.

“Let’s get him back to the med bay, and we can get him sorted.” she said. The men moved past her, laying the stretcher down on the wooden planks.

“There’s no need for that.” Falsworth said, trying to wave them off. Steve chose that moment to step away slightly, forcing him to stand on his own two feet. Of course, Falsworth nearly crumpled to the ground without the support, letting out a string of curses as Steve caught him again. “I’ll remember that.”

“I’m sure you will.” Steve said, grinning and pulling off his helmet. Bucky realized they all looked a little worse for wear, covered in ash and gunpowder and more than a little blood. The men helped Falsworth onto the stretcher despite his complaints, setting off at a quick clip towards the building they called home a few blocks away. Lu, however, stayed behind, falling into step next to Bucky as they followed.

“I’ll be honest, I was afraid that was you.” she said, nodding towards the man in front of them. He reached out a dirty hand and squeezed hers, letting go before any of the men could start jeering. 

“You don’t gotta worry about me, Doc. I’m made of tougher stuff than the Brits.” he said, smirking to hide the fact that he still felt completely unsettled after being in that bunker. Lu didn’t seem to buy the expression but let it slide, knowing they would talk about it later. 

“I heard that!” Falsworth called from the stretcher. In a completely accidental moment, one of the men tripped and shook the stretcher, quieting him again. 

“I’m glad you’re safe.” she murmured. She wanted desperately to kiss him, just to be sure he was really still there, but knew that this wasn’t the time or place. He gave her an award winning smile, bumping her lightly with his shoulder.

“Me too.” he said. 

“Doc, you shoulda seen him!” Dugan interjected, taking her attention away from him. With her otherwise occupied with the dramatic retelling, he could let his smile fall and take a moment to let everything overwhelm him. The second he stepped foot in that bunker, he’d felt trapped all over again. If it weren’t for a blind berserker rage, he wasn’t sure he would’ve met the target objective at all. He could feel Lu sending furtive glances his way, but he kept his eyes on the ground, suddenly feeling suffocated by all the lives lost in this entire fucking war. How many had he taken tonight? No, no he couldn’t go down that path. If they didn’t stop Hydra, then the whole world would be at risk. This was a necessary evil. 

Lu tugged on his sleeve when they entered the building, breaking him out of the dark spiral of his thoughts. She searched his face, as if she could read his thoughts, but he felt embarrassed to share them with her. After all, wasn’t that what he signed up for? Chasing after Steve and killing Nazis? She didn’t end up saying anything, just simply nodding as if she understood. He didn’t know what she understood, cause he sure as hell didn’t understand  _ anything _ right now.

A drink. He needed a drink, and a long nap. 

But he didn’t get time for either of those. Instead, he got to watch Lu leave for the med bay and then get swept up himself into a conference room. There, the group gave their views of the events that transpired. After that, he got to sit and wait his turn, then give Agent Carter his  _ own  _ summary of the night’s activities. And then, in a shocking and exciting turn of events, he got to sit and write it all down, sign his John Hancock, and turn it into Agent Carter like a Catholic school boy. The withering glare he got at his penmanship was certainly reminiscent of the nuns. 

“Oh, Sergeant Barnes, one last thing,” Agent Carter said when he was so fucking close to being out the door. He put his face back on before turning to her, keeping his expression as blank as possible.

“Yes, Agent Carter?” he sounded on edge, even to himself. But he had an excuse, right? Agent Carter didn’t comment on the tone, just holding out an envelope.

“Your paycheck.” she said. His shoulders sagged with relief. Some good news! He took the envelope from her, waiting until he was out in the hallway before opening it. Okay, so maybe not  _ good _ news, but certainly better news than when he was employed by the Army instead of the SSR. He tucked the envelope into his jacket pocket, his fatigue really setting in as he made his way back to the medical bay. Lu and Falsworth were behind a curtain, their shadows on the fabric oddly shaped thanks to the bright lamp behind them. Falsworth was clearly reclined, and Lu seemed to have her head...over his lap?

“Knock knock.” he said, pulling the curtain back and trying not to sound completely jealous in the process. Lu’s eyes snapped up to his, her eyebrows raised in surprise. Falsworth was reclined, yes, with one leg bare and the rest of him properly draped and covered. Lu was cleaning the thigh wound from the bullet, something resembling a Q-tip deep in the hole in his leg. 

“What, come to join the fun?” Falsworth asked, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and letting out a stream of smoke away from Lu’s face. She grinned in a way that said she saw right through Bucky’s sudden arrival.

“Just wanted to let Doc know I was done with everything. Looks like you’re still working, though.” he said, turning his attention to her. She nodded, going back to her work. 

“We should be done in another half hour, if you want to wait.” she said. Before he could answer, his stomach growled loudly, speaking for him.

“I’ll meet you back at the apartments. With breakfast.” he said. He glanced at Falsworth, who took the hint and laid his head back, putting an arm over his eyes. Bucky leaned down and pressed a gentle, silent kiss to her cheek, pleased with how pink it turned afterwards. Then he went in search of food.

The sun was already well into the sky by the time he left, and it was easy to find a morning cafe, picking up something warm for them to eat. Coffee they had in abundance, though sugar was still rationed heavily. He tucked the food into his jacket, trying to keep it warm as the cold morning wind blew through him. He walked with his head down, intent on making it back home, when something flashed in his peripheral vision. He immediately looked, expecting the blade of a scalpel or reflection from a rifle sight, but instead he just found a storefront. Dozens of blue velvet boxes sat in the window, the diamonds in the rings sparkling as the morning light hit them just right.  _ Hoffman’s Fine Jewelry _ was freshly painted in yellow and brown on the glass, making sure to leave enough room to display the wares.

It was as if his feet had a mind of their own, stopping him and directing him to the window. He was tired, hungry, and a little shell-shocked, but all he could focus on was those rings. Simple bands, solitary settings, and massive Edwardian rings all glittered at him, whispering for him to choose one. Of course, when he spotted the price tags, the diamonds’ sparkle seemed to dim a bit.

“You know, you can come inside and look, if you like.” a man said, leaning against the open door to the shop. He was older and well put together, sporting a well worn three piece suit and a knowing smile. Bucky could feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck as he thought of his SSR check, but held his gaze. He assumed this was Mr. Hoffman, but didn’t dare ask his name. Not yet. 

“I don’t have enough money to go inside quite yet.” he replied. He made sure not to sound too destitute about it; after all, this was just a bump in the long road of his plans with Lu. The man’s smile never wavered.

“Do you have the girl?” he asked. Bucky thought of Lu’s beautiful face, of her soft blonde hair and her smaller hands in his. He thought of the way she buried into his embrace first thing in the morning, before she was fully awake and had rebuilt her last remaining walls. He couldn’t help but feel like wedding vows finally made sense when he thought about saying them to her.

“If she’ll have me.” he said, though many nights and kisses and whispered confessions supported his feelings. 

“If you have the girl, you’ll find the money.” he said. He shrugged, turning and going back into the shop without another word. He was right, of course. Bucky had a goal now, and he never gave up on his goals. He let his eyes wander over the rings again, getting an idea of what was popular, and how many paychecks he needed to save up. Then, he spotted it.

It was simpler than the others, nestled in one of the boxes further back in the rows. The diamond was small but bright, set into the sterling silver with delicate filigree around it. Its neighbors boasted more carats and more intricate designs, but the way the silver wrapped around reminded Bucky of the string he’d tied on Lu’s finger a few days before, and of the sutures she’d tied so expertly in his shoulder. He shouldn’t get attached to it; he knew it was too easy to be heartbroken, to come back with his money and find that it was already sold. But he couldn’t help it, it was simply too perfect.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.” Steve said, startling Bucky out of his reverie. He nodded towards the case. “Which one?”

“Dunno what you’re talking about.” Bucky said, going to turn on his heel. This was all still so new to him; he wanted to tell Steve everything, of course. But that was after he had time to think about it for a second. Steve grabbed his sleeve, preventing his exit.

“Bull shit. Which one?” he asked again, crossing his arms over his chest as if he wanted to remind Bucky of his new muscles. Bastard. Bucky sighed heavily, pointing to the one he liked.

“That one.” he grumbled. This was supposed to be his secret...though if he was honest, he was going to have to rope Steve into it at some point or another. Steve let out a low, appreciative whistle.

“Well done. When are you picking it up?” he continued. Stupid Steve, with his stupid support and stupid questions.

“Can’t afford it yet.” Bucky admitted. He turned away again, and this time Steve let him, though he easily fell into step beside him. It was still weird, not having to adjust his pace for Steve to keep up. 

“We got paid today-”

“Yea, I know, but those funds have to be used for dumb stuff like food.” he said. This time, he couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. Steve was quiet for a second, his brows pinched in thought. “Spit it out, punk.”

“I have a little saved up. It’s not much, but it would be enough.” he offered. At first, pride and anger boiled up in Bucky’s chest, but he quickly shut it down.

“I can’t ask that, Steve. You got your own stuff to worry about.” he said. Steve looked like he wanted to press the issue, but settled for putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“End of the line, pal.” he said, making Bucky smile. It felt good to hear that again.

“I know.”

“Tell me if you change your mind, okay?” Steve continued, and Bucky nodded.

“Yea, bud, I will.” he said. They said their goodbyes and parted ways, Steve going down the block to the officers’ building, and Bucky going up the stairs to his little flat on the third floor. He left breakfast in the oven, going to take a cold shower and rinse off all the sins from the night before. The bed looked terribly inviting, but he knew sleep wouldn’t come until his stomach was satisfied and Lu was in his arms. 

He was on his second cup of coffee when a timid knock came from the door. He let out a breath of a laugh and went to answer it, his muscles surprisingly limber despite sitting completely still for the past twenty minutes. He didn’t even bother looking through the peep hole, instead just undoing the bolt and pulling open the door.

“You didn’t ask who was there.” Lu said, her brows pinched together. She had shadows under her eyes and hair still wet from her shower, dressed in old army pants and a tshirt that probably used to belong to him. And she looked stunning.

“You didn’t use the key I gave you.” he countered, moving aside so she could come in. He grabbed her wrist as she walked by, pulling her close to give her a gentle kiss.

“We do have to hold up some semblance of decorum.” she murmured to his lips, not sounding convinced even to herself. 

“I missed you.” he said, tugging her close for another kiss. This one was deeper, a little more fervent, and she responded in kind.

“You were late getting back, you know.” she said, once her lips and cheeks were a little pinker. Her eyes searched his face, trying to find all his secrets. There weren’t that many left that he hadn’t shared with her. 

“Oh I know.” he’d been counting down the minutes the entire time.

“I was worried.”

“Me too.” he said. She looked like she wanted to smile or laugh, but she quickly noticed that he was not. He was completely serious. She put her hands on his cheeks, keeping him from looking away. “Our food is gonna go stale.”   


“What happened?” she asked. Her voice was so uncharacteristically soft that it made his breath catch. He shook his head, untangling from her hold. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” he replied, going to get the breakfast. He didn’t want to admit how much it shook him up to be back in a Hydra bunker, even if there were no cages or prisoners in sight. He didn’t want to say that he was afraid to get caught there again, even to her. 

“Barnes-” she grasped his sleeve, and he quickly pulled away, rougher than he meant to. She didn’t back down, standing up to her full height. He could  _ feel _ the way she was looking at him as he busied himself with the food. “Barnes.”

“I know, I know.” he said. He was tired; nowhere near as tired as he should be, but tired nonetheless. “I’m sorry. It’s just...it’s too soon. I don’t wanna talk about it. Or think about it. I just want to be  _ here _ .” He gestured with his hands, trying to imply that he meant more than just the apartment. He meant here, in this life, where he could sit with her and pretend that they were in the midst of domestic bliss. Her posture relaxed at that, and she nodded.

“Okay. I can understand that.” she said. Bucky picked up a plate and a cup of coffee, handing them to her. She gave him a half a smile in return. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” he said, trying to muster up a smile of his own. It didn’t quite make it, but she appreciated the effort. “It’s from the cafe around the corner. They actually had eggs today.”

“Spoiling me.” she said, her sarcasm unable to hide the joy she clearly held at the small gift. He thought back to the rings in the shop, and how he’d never be able to spoil her like he really wanted. He blinked the thoughts away, knowing now was not the time to go down that hole.

“Trying to.” he said. If she suspected he was ring shopping, she didn’t show it. Then again, Lu was the type to consider breakfast as spoiling, so the thoughts of rings probably weren’t in her mind at all. Good, she could use a happy surprise now and then. “How’s Falsworth?” he asked as they sat at the side table that came with the apartment.

“He’ll live. The wound was long, but not deep, if that makes sense.” she said, speaking with her mouth full and trying to pantomime the shape of the wound. “Couple weeks, and he’ll be back in action.”

“I doubt Agent Carter will give him that long.” Bucky remarked. If he remembered correctly, the last thing the woman said before he left was  _ I’ll see you in twenty-four hours _ . 

“That’s between her and the physician. I did my part.” Lu said, holding up her hands. “But if I need to give him something worse to keep him in the infirmary, that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“You’ll do no such thing.” he said around a huge bite. “Cause then you’ll get in trouble and we’ll have to take to the woods, and my survival skills aren’t up to par yet.”

“I know how to survive in the woods.” she said, unfazed at the prospect. “Drop me in the middle of the city, that would be a nightmare.”

“Ah, see, that’s what you have me for.” he replied, reaching out to take her hand. She smiled, grasping his fingers and happily finishing her meal with one hand. When their meal was finished, it was easy to fall into bed, wrap up in each other, and sleep the day away. 

He could tell his dreams wanted to become nightmares, but thanks to his fatigue and the warm body next to him none of them got strong enough to stick. He could feel his heart beating fast, knowing deep down something was wrong, but for once his mind was too tired to make him play any of it out. He didn’t know how long they slept, only that the sun was well past its peak when they woke, and that somehow he was still tired. Lu’s back was against his chest, his arm securely wrapped around her waist. She was waking up too, her body shifting slightly and then pressing against him as she stretched. He held his breath and didn’t dare move, but she still caught his body’s betrayal, abruptly stopping her movement. 

“Is that…” she left the sentence hanging, and somehow he felt like an embarrassed teenager again.

“Shh. Don’t do anything, and it’ll go away.” he said. He would deal with the ramifications of this later. When he was alone. She let out a laugh, her body shaking slightly, which decidedly did  _ not _ help the situation.

“It’s not a wild animal, Barnes.” she said, making his heart jump. They were  _ not _ having this conversation.

“Oh, the jokes I could make, Doc.” he replied, trying to sound light and amused and not like he wanted to show her exactly how wild he could be. She rolled away from him - at least as much as she could on the twin bed - and he was just able to use the sheet to hide himself before her eyes glanced down curiously.

“Well you’re no fun.” she announced. She had better color in her cheeks now after the rest, and her blonde hair was soft and tangled and tousled after sleeping on it wet. He gulped, looking away before the situation got any worse.

“And you’re a tease.” he responded, realizing too late that the joke could land like a fighter plane with its wings shot off. Her jaw dropped, and the fear that shot through him was enough to make his body finally behave. 

“Well I could say the same about you.” she finally said, tugging at the sheet. He held it fast, more now for the sake of the banter rather than actual necessity. Relief flooded through him; he had no issue waiting as long as Lu needed to change the physical aspect of their relationship. He’d known too many women who’d allowed men to pressure them, and too many men who thought that  _ a little convincing _ was all part of the game. But he also couldn’t deny that he wasn’t looking forward to the night - or day, for that matter - when she felt ready. 

“Ah, ah, not until you’re older.” he said, making her smile. God, he loved her smile. He made a vow to himself at that moment to make sure she smiled every day for the rest of her life. 

“Well, my birthday is coming up.” she said. His blood ran cold.

“What? When? Why didn’t you tell me?” he said, now fully awake. He sat up quickly, any pretenses forgotten. Fuck, what if it was  _ tomorrow _ ?! She burst out laughing at his response, actually rolling onto her back and holding her stomach. She was laughing loud enough that anyone in the hall would hear that she was in his apartment. But luckily, since the sun was up, they weren’t considered improper. Yet. “Doc. The question still stands. I swear to God, if you’re just fucking with me…”

“No, no I’m not.” she said, finally getting herself under control. “Oh, your face though. I wish I had a picture.”

“Doc.”

“Barnes.”

“Tell me when your birthday is.”

“It’s not until the twenty-third.” she said, gesturing widely. “Over three weeks away.”

“I only have three weeks to find you a present? Are you kidding?” he asked, dramatically leaping out of the bed and making her laugh again. Alright, he needed to amend his earlier vow. He was going to make her smile  _ and _ laugh every day for the rest of her life. 

“I don’t need a present.” she said, reaching her hand out and making grabbing motions with her fingers until he took it, letting her pull him back onto the bed. The springs squealed in protest of their combined weight, but they ignored it. “I just want you.”

“You need a present too, Doc.” he said. He almost added,  _ perhaps some jewelry? _ But held his tongue. He didn’t need to be dropping hints yet.

“You’re more than I need. More than I deserve.” she said. He felt the laughter dissolve, and instead settled back down on the pillow so they were eye to eye. She reached up, her fingertips cold against his warm cheek as she rested her hand on it. 

“That’s a load of bull shit.” he whispered. She shook her head.

“We survived something terrible. And now Agent Carter is sending you back into it every chance she gets.” she said, making him flinch. She was completely right, not that he was ready to admit it. “I was so scared last night, especially when I couldn’t tell who was hurt. So no, I don’t want presents for my birthday.” She moved closer, resting her forehead against his and boldly putting her leg over his hip, allowing her to press up against him. “I just want you.”

He gulped again, a mix of nerves and fear and excitement swirling through him. “I’ll try not to disappoint.” he said, his mouth suddenly dry. She shook her head again.

“You could never.” she said sweetly, closing the distance and kissing him. She kissed him as if trying to convey all her feelings at once, as if she wanted it to say all the things she couldn’t actually tell him out loud. And he let it, tugging her back in for one more kiss when she went to pull away. He felt the weight of her trust then, but it wasn’t unbearable. In fact, it wasn’t even heavy. It was like he was made to hold it, and to carry it forever. 

Three weeks. He wouldn’t be able to afford the ring in three weeks. But maybe that would give him enough time to make sure her birthday was the best one yet.

And he was still going to get her a present.


	42. Miles - April 13, 2015

**Chapter 42: Miles**

**April 13, 2015**

They were twenty miles from the border when they were forced to take a rest. 

They could see it in the distance, the point that they’d been running to for this entire time. They should feel elated, excited, or even just a little bit relieved. But all Summer felt was apprehension. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

“We made plans before.” Winter said. He was short of breath, but then again, so was she. “Back then.”

He didn’t need to explain what he meant; she already knew. She remembered a lot of the plans they made before they were Summer and Winter. Happy plans for a happy life, where they could be together, have a family, grow old together. There was no war in this life, only each other. Thus far, they’d only manage to get old.

“It’s bad luck to make plans.” she replied, the first thing she could think of. He let out a breath that was almost a chuckle.

“You always were superstitious.” he said, one corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. He was right, though she didn’t remember sharing her superstitions that often. It came with the territory of being a nurse; newer girls liked to think they didn’t believe in them, but older nurses made excellent points about the full moon and quiet nights. 

“And you were always optimistic.” she said, not returning his smile. The bad feeling was only getting worse the longer they sat here. She’d been looking over her shoulder since the city fell from the sky, as if she could feel Hydra behind them now that that distraction was gone. It had been too quiet during this run from Chernobyl, and now it was all coming together. Which meant it was prime time for something to go wrong.

“Have we ever been to Romania?” he asked. He’d almost gotten his breathing under control. She could feel her own muscles knitting back together, and her oxygen levels equalizing. It was almost time to keep going.

“Not that I can remember.” she said, actually racking her brain for a moment. “We should start writing things down. That way it’ll stick.” She remembered the soldiers from before, how they would write letters to their loves, or in tiny notebooks that fit in their pockets. The look on Winter’s face said he remembered them too.

“You’d read them?” he asked. He was actually teasing her at a moment like this. “It’d be very different from your books.”

“Perhaps you and I are prioritizing different memories then.” she said, finally giving in and smiling to him. They’re time was running out, but she didn’t know if things would end in their favor. Until they were safe in the middle of Romania, she would still feel the target on her back.

“I think I’ve made it clear that isn’t the case.” he responded. He was  _ flirting _ with her. And as much as she wanted to flirt back, she couldn’t help but feel that he was getting too confident too quickly. 

“You can prove it in Romania.” she said. She didn’t let him answer, instead just taking off running again. He muttered something that sounded like  _ bull shit _ before taking off after her, easily catching up and keeping pace. They were  _ so close _ . 

They were five miles out when they heard the helicopter.

After days of running non-stop, after sleepless nights with their eyes wide open, and after watching a city fall from the sky, this was the closest they were coming to true freedom - and the closest they’d ever be to defeat.

They were tired. No, they were beyond tired - there was an exhaustion drilled deep into their bones by seventy years of pain. This next hour would be the most important, the one that determined their future. Normal civilian helicopters traveled at approximately one hundred and sixty miles per hour. Standard issue Hydra helicopters flew up to two hundred miles per hour. But the Slipstream, the aircraft engineered for takedowns like this, flew at an astounding two hundred and forty miles per hour, perhaps faster if the wind was just right. 

They were five miles from the border. And the helicopter was only two hundred miles away.

They didn’t bother with words now; words required air, and they didn’t exactly have that in excess right now. Their packs and guns were heavy, and for a moment Summer regretted grabbing another romance novel back in Ukraine. But they couldn’t abandon the supplies - if a helicopter was on its way, that meant ground forces had already lined up. They would have to fight their way through to make it past the border. Winter thought briefly of Cero, wondering if the children were safe on the other side of the country. He also wondered if they should have gone back to her, and used her resources to enter Romania from over there. He let the thought go; it would do them no good to dwell on the past. 

Three miles from the border, they saw the line of soldiers all in black, the meager sun glinting off their weapons. These soldiers would be well trained, well armed, and well rested. Summer and Winter were currently one-for-three on those fronts. But they had something that the soldiers didn’t: a pure, unadulterated, carnal need for freedom. These men would have instructions to shoot to incapacitate. Hydra would not want their assets brought back dead. After all, thanks to the words, they’d go from almost human back to Soldiers in the blink of an eye. Winter thought that, the longer they were out of the ice, the weaker the words would become. Summer knew better than that. In her dreams she still heard them, and she woke up feeling the numbness in her arms and legs that happened just before her mind fell into darkness. 

Desperation was a powerful motivator. The poor men waiting for them didn’t understand that.

One mile from the border, the soldiers started shifting uneasily. Summer and Winter were almost in range, and the helicopter was still fifty miles away. They’d heard the legends about the two Soldiers, how they were dead inside, how they could dismantle small governments and take out any target. After all, they were responsible for the assassination in Dallas in 1963. How, over fifty years later, were they sprinting across a field, looking younger than half the men there?

Summer and Winter didn’t slow down. In fact, they sped up. The men would hesitate, and they needed to abuse that fact. When they’d walked away, they said they would try not to kill again. But sometimes, necessity dictated action. These twenty men would die today, and they felt no remorse in the matter. 

The first one brave enough to take a shot was three heads from the end, the bullet thudding uselessly into the ground a few yards from Summer’s feet. She immediately changed her trajectory, pulling her pistol from its holster and aiming. She waited for the moment of weightlessness between her steps, centering the sight on the man’s neck and pulling the trigger. Blood spattered across the helmets of the men next to him, making them turn in alarm. Did they tend to their fallen brother? Or did they apprehend the assailant? Summer made the choice for them, running full tilt before launching herself into the air and planting her feet into the nearest man’s chest. She heard the sternum and ribs crack under her boots, the body flying back into the man behind him, their heads hitting together hard enough to crack the helmets. But she did not see this; her head was already turned, her arms reaching out to latch onto the head of the man behind her. His rifle hit her face and her shoulder, but she didn’t feel pain. All she cared about was holding on tight until the bones of his neck gave out and he crumpled to the ground with her. 

Hydra had trained them to be the best. It would now be their undoing.

Gunfire echoed from across the line, the soldiers still somehow choosing to send warning shots instead of shooting to kill. Winter, watching the angle of the muzzles, was able to tell exactly where the bullets would go, and could easily step aside. A lucky shot, aimed for the space in front of him, managed to glance off his thigh as he ran through. His skin stung, but instead of slowing him down, it only pissed him off more. He reached with his metal hand, the fingers sinking into the nearest soldier’s helmet and then into his brain. Just like in the mountains, he used the body as a bat, slamming it into the men next to him. The part of his chest where the metal arm met his flesh screamed in protest, but he ignored it. He could tend to injuries later. He ripped the rifle from the dead man’s hands, peppering the others with bullets. He didn’t bother aiming; aim wouldn’t help him right now. He just needed to confuse them, scare them, and keep them away from Summer so she could do her work. 

Summer, out of rounds in her pistol, threw the gun hard enough for it to crash through the helmet of a soldier. The equipment seemed to get flimsier with each cycle, she noticed with disappointment. The men upstairs put too much trust in whoever was in that helicopter. She saw the soldiers for what they were: cannon fodder, a distraction to prevent their advancement just long enough for the main adversary to arrive. She would not give them the satisfaction. 

She’d spent the last year trying to see people as humans again, but now she turned that part of her brain off, instead seeing these men as nothing but obstacles in her way. She felled one after the other, crushing skulls and rib cages and using the limp bodies as full coverage shields. She could see the whites of their eyes despite the black shades from the helmets, the air thick with the scent of fear and blood. Hydra wanted them to be assets, wanted them to be animals. For the first time in a long time, she stopped holding herself back, letting go and completely destroying the men around her. And she hated herself for thinking it felt good.

Winter and Summer met at the middle of the line, their breathing haggard and their bodies exhausted. But the helicopter was now in sight, close enough that they could see the guns shift as they aimed for them. They took off running again, the border in sight. No longer did they feel the weight of their gear, or the recent fight, or the running they’d done ever since that fateful day in D.C. Hydra could not cross into Romania without serious backlash from the rest of the underground, and their two favorite assets were yards away from that line. 

The helicopter made it to them just as they crossed the border, the bullets they shot kicking up the dirt behind them. They kept running just in case, going another ten, fifty, a hundred yards into sweet freedom. The helicopter landed in the grass right at the edge, the blond Siberian man glaring from the door. Seemed Hydra just got better and better at bringing people back to life. Winter regretted then, not going back to check the body in Florida. He should have dismembered him and burned him. But he’d been distracted and concerned, the feelings he hadn’t understood then clouding his judgement.

Well he understood those feelings now. Elation at crossing the border, pride at beating their enemy, and a strong and blurry affection for the woman in front of him. They finally tumbled to a stop, well within the safe zone even though their enemy was still within eyesight. Summer looked at him with the most joyful smile, looking more like herself than she had since they’d been taken. Her breath caught, and she flung herself into his arms, her body shaking as the emotions overwhelmed her. He held her tight, so tight that it was difficult for her to breathe, but she didn’t care. She could catch up on her oxygen later. He pulled back just enough to hold her face in his hands and kiss her. It was hard, and rough, and somehow felt utterly perfect. 

Then her breath caught again and she lurched forward roughly, and a copper taste filled his mouth. 

Winter stepped back quickly, hands going to her shoulders and eyes racing over her body to try and find the wound. They were beyond the border, how could someone attack them? But it was not a bullet hole he found, or an assailant. In her back was a massive claw, the metal contraption attached to a long, thick rope. Summer tried to gasp, the move interrupted by gurgling as her lungs started filling with blood. He followed the chain back to its source: a massive gun, bolted in place on the helicopter. The blond Siberian leaned casually against the door and pressed a button on it, as if changing the station on the radio. The chain started snaking its way back, and when it went taut, Summer was literally ripped from his arms. 

She screamed then, a bloody and painful screech that came from more than just physical pain. The claws held onto her, dragging her along the ground so fast that she couldn’t get her legs underneath her. Winter leapt into a sprint, chasing after her, but even if Hydra had built him into a machine he still had human legs, and inch by inch he was losing ground against the chain. Summer was panicking, blood pouring from her mouth and from a couple exit wounds in her front. But she was still breathing, and as long as she was still breathing, she would keep fighting, and Winter would keep fighting for her. 

Summer looked over her shoulder, noticing how close to the border they were getting. “No!” she yelled, the first recognizable word since the hooks sank into her. Winter thought that she was shouting it to the blond Siberian man, or to the claw, or to the universe itself, but he soon realized that she was shouting it to  _ him _ . “No!” she said again, her eyes wide and imploring and filled with tears.

_ Promise me _ .

Technically, he promised that he wouldn’t come after her if she’d been captured again. And until she was past that border, she wasn’t caught. He began pumping his legs faster, stupid things like pain and heavy backpacks and oxygen getting thrown to the back of his mind. All that mattered was getting to Summer. 

They were close enough to see the man now, close enough to see the self-satisfied smile on his face. Winter hated him so much that suddenly it didn’t matter if he got to Summer in time, he was going to jump on that helicopter and kill him. Again. And this time, he would make sure he was dead. 

Summer was still struggling, ignoring the deep, terrible pain in her chest as her lungs were torn to shreds. She could heal from that, as long as she could get free. Or, she might die from the injuries. But if she was going to die, she was not going to die under the clutches of Hydra. She was able to move enough that one half of the claw was ripped out with searing pain, but her cry was interrupted as the change made the other claws shift, cutting through her chest cavity like a knife through hot butter. Then, after an unfortunate meeting with a particularly large rock, the claws slammed back in at a different angle, making her vision go completely black. She thought she was still conscious, and she tried reaching up for the rope, but her heavy, clumsy hands couldn’t find it. Besides, if she got the rope, she’d need a knife. Where was her knife? She couldn’t feel it in its hilt. In fact, she really couldn’t feel anything at all. 

When Summer lost consciousness, Winter saw red. 

He no longer saw the border, or the helicopter, or the man waiting with a smile like he was about to eat them for supper. He only saw her. Her blood left dark red streaks in the green grass, threatening to make his boots slip. So he changed his path, cursing in some language as the shift cost him a few inches. They were close enough now that he could hear the rope sing as the mechanism wound it up, and could smell a slight burning as the Siberian man made the machine pull as fast as it could go. The helicopter blades started spinning faster, the wind from them slowing him down a little more, and pissing him off a lot more. He wanted to throw his metal arm away; he could feel how heavy it was, feel how it was slowing him down. He’d rather make it and take them on with one arm than miss them and keep both. 

The helicopter started taking off, hovering just a few feet above the ground. They were both past the border now, but Winter didn’t care.  _ Fuck _ the promise he’d made to Summer in London. He’d made another promise to her there, a lifetime ago, that he would never leave her, that he would be by her side for better or for worse. If she questioned him later, he could claim brain damage and that he forgot.

The helicopter lifted further, and soon Summer’s body left the ground too, hanging like a marionette. The rope was able to pull faster now without the ground friction holding it back, and as a last ditch effort, Winter jumped as high as he could, reaching out for her boots. He missed them by a fraction of an inch as her body slithered over the edge, and by pure dumb luck, his chest slammed into the runner underneath the body instead of gravity pulling him down towards possible death. The helicopter pitched to the side, making him almost fall and allowing Summer’s body to slide towards the still open door. He held on by his fingertips, the metal ones digging into the runners and leaving dents behind. He saw her face, pale and covered in blood. And he saw her green eyes as she opened them again. 

Her gaze immediately locked on his, her brain sluggishly taking in the situation. She’d lost so much blood. Too much blood? She wasn’t sure. The human body couldn’t survive if it lost more than forty percent of its blood. She tried to run an assessment; clearly, she hadn’t lost enough blood to kill her, but she  _ had _ lost enough to make her brain function severely decrease. She looked to Winter again, warmth blooming in her chest as he held on. He pulled himself up to the runner, but the helicopter shifted again, making him lose his balance before he could completely stabilize. He yelled in frustration as he kicked off the board, catching the edge of the helicopter floor with his metal hand.

Summer could feel herself crying, though she didn’t understand how her body possibly had the liquid to spare. After all they’d been through, all they’d promised, this was how it was going to end. Hydra was going to win. Again.

No.

She’d made that promise to him for a reason. She was not in a position to run; even if she could free herself from the clutches of the claw, she would not be strong enough for a retreat. But as she saw a forest appear behind Winter, the trees at least close enough that she could make out the budding green leaves, she became very aware that he could survive. 

He could survive the fall this time.

He may never forgive her for this. But if he was thrown back into the Ice Box, if Hydra made him their hand again, then she would never forgive herself. Every time they’d woken up, they’d known something was wrong. She could live with that feeling again. But she would not see him suffer through it, not when he didn’t have to. 

She reached out, taking hold of the metal fingers. Her hands were always cold, and now that she was terribly hypovolemic, even the metal of his arm felt warm. He looked at her with hope, and determination, and affection. He was going to fight until he couldn’t anymore.

She was going to make that decision for him.

“I love you.” she said, blood bubbling into her mouth again. His eyes went wide as he finally figured out her plan. But he was just a moment too late; with the last of her strength, she bent the fingers back and let go, closing her eyes once he disappeared from view. The rest of her life was fucked, she knew that; but at least he would be free.

Winter shouted with rage and hurt as he fell, forgetting to relax his body and protect his head as he hit the tops of the trees. The thin branches scraped his face as he tumbled through them, and a particularly thick branch smacked him hard on the back of his head. But he ignored the pain and the swimming of his vision, willing himself to stay conscious. He hit the ground hard, his head spinning even though his body was now still. He tried to push himself to his feet, but the vertigo hit him hard enough that he pitched sideways, collapsing against a tree and vomiting into the underbrush. He could still hear the helicopter, but as he tried to follow it, he found he was too concussed to track it properly. And God dammit, Summer was the better tracker. 

A pain the likes of which he’d never felt before tore into his sternum. He wondered if it was the same feeling Summer got when the claws grabbed on to her. At that moment, he did not remember hearing in his youth about heartbreak, and how people sometimes died from it. Later, he would think of it and understand why it felt like his ribs were broken, and like his heart had turned to stone filled with shards of glass. He stumbled through the brush, trying to focus on the sound of the helicopter, but the steady  _ whump-whump-whump _ moved further and further away. He kept chasing it, even when it was out of range, telling himself that he could still hear it, that it was somewhere this way, that if he just kept going he could catch up and save Summer. How  _ dare _ she say she loved him before doing that. How  _ dare _ she not allow him to say it back. And how  _ dare _ she stop him from going back into the darkness with her. 

She’d made him promise to walk away if given the chance, said that she would do the same before going back to Hydra. Never in a million years did he think it would end up like this. 

Eventually, his body betrayed him. Even with his enhancements, with the strength that the serum gave him, he could not last forever. And all of his injuries combined with the exhaustion and stress from the last few days piled on until he fell, and smothering him until he had no choice but to succumb to unconsciousness. 

There he laid, in a dark forest somewhere near Romania.

Alone. 


	43. Sweet Celebrations - January 23, 1944

**Chapter 43: Sweet Celebrations**

**January 23, 1944**

Okay, he just had to make this her best birthday ever. That would be easy, right?

Of course, he didn’t take into account the mission Peggy would give them the night before. Or the national shortages of imports. Or the rationing of birthday cake related items, such as sugar and eggs and butter. It took him the three weeks he had just to track down a baker that would be able to track down all the necessary parts, and he charged triple the price to make the cake. It was a hard hit to his ring savings, but it was a sacrifice that he was willing to make. The morning of, he startled awake to an empty bed, panic rising before his eyes were fully open as his hand only found empty sheets. 

“Doc?” he asked, his voice deep and gravelly from a whiskey dry throat. He sat up quickly, his eyes scanning the room faster than his brain could interpret what he was seeing. Lu was in the kitchen, still in her pajamas and hair messy from sleep. She looked over her shoulder, giving him a tired grin.

“I’m right here.” she said quietly. She finished packing the percolator with coffee, giving him ample time to get his heartbeat to return to normal before she came to stand in front of him. He pulled her close and rested his head on her chest, his arms tight around her as he shook of the last of whatever dream he’d been having. She ran her fingers through his hair, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “You could have slept longer.”

“I was planning to bring you breakfast in bed.” he said, voice muffled by her soft skin. She laughed quietly, the sound echoing in his head. Whatever still lingered from the anxiety dream the night before melted away, and he hugged her tighter.

“You still can.” she said. “I haven’t changed yet.” 

“Then get back in here, missy.” he said, leaning back and pulling her with him. She fought back just enough to play into the joke, allowing him to drop her onto the mattress. The springs didn’t care for the sudden change in weight, but somehow it all stayed standing. 

“Who’s Missy?” she asked, head tilted to the side and green eyes glinting. His heart dropped to his shoes. 

“No I didn’t - you very clearly aren’t - it’s just a-” he stammered along, the corner of her mouth starting to quiver as she tried to keep a straight face. “Oh, you asshat. I don’t even  _ know _ a Missy.”

She burst out laughing at her own joke, and he would’ve been a little peeved if she wasn’t so beautiful, and if it wasn’t her birthday. And if it was, he had to admit, a pretty good prank. “Ah, so worth it.” she said, putting her hands on his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss.

“Yea yea yea.” he said, kissing her once more before getting up, throwing the covers over her face. “Consider yourself lucky this time, punk. You’re getting off easy cause it’s a special day.”

“What’s so special about it?” she asked, popping her head out from under the blankets before otherwise burrowing into them. He didn’t bother turning, only waving his hand at her as he went to dig into the secret part of the pantry he’d set up the night before.

“Uh uh, I’m not falling for it.” he said, earning a dramatic sigh. “Today is your birthday, happy birthday, I love you, it’s going to be the best day ever, yada yada yada.”

“Ever?!”

“Okay, well, the best that I can make it under current circumstances.” he amended, turning back to find her smiling warmly at him.

“It’ll be great because I have you.” she said quietly. His heart stopped for a moment; she rarely expressed things like that, especially verbally. He paused, putting down the sourdough he’d purchased the day before and giving her a sincere look.

“I love you.” he said. Even if they made a point to say it every day, it was still so thrilling to hear the words from his mouth. And twice as thrilling to hear it from hers.

“I love you, too.” she replied. She burrowed further into the covers. “I think you mentioned something about breakfast in bed?”

“Shit, right.” Bucky said, quickly turning and pulling the percolator off the stove before the coffee became too strong and bitter. The bread he cut into thick slices, placing them straight onto the oven grates to toast while he brought out his secret weapon.

“What have you got there?” Lu asked, leaning up to try and see over the counter. He turned his back, hiding the jar from her.

“You’ll see. You’re supposed to be older and more patient now, you know.” he said, flipping the toast over. He filled the mismatched coffee cups and pulled out the plates, all while hiding his find from Lu.

“Well I’m not getting any younger, Barnes.” she replied, feigning annoyance. In reality, she was all smiles. She never dreamed she’d be with a man who wanted to spoil her on her birthday like this. Really, she hadn’t had a birthday celebration for about three years, and hadn’t known a man she wanted to spoil her...ever. 

“Just calm down, Doc.” he said, pulling the bread from the stove and putting it on the plate, cursing under his breath when he burned himself slightly. The pain didn’t last long though - probably thanks to his extra fast reflexes...that seemed to be a little faster than usual. Huh. 

Onto the toast, he piled dollop after dollop of strawberry preserves. Like the cake, the price was marked up considerably, but also like the cake, it would be worth it. He balanced the plates on one arm, holding the coffee mugs by the handles and turning back towards the bed.

“Happy birthday to you…”

“Ew, Barnes, no. No singing.”

“Happy birthday to you…!”

“Stop it. You’ll spill the coffee.”

“Happy birthday dear Doc.” he dragged out the nickname, nearly dropping everything in the process and just managing to save it.

“See! Be careful!”

“Happy birthday to you!”

“Are those...strawberries?” she asked. Yes, his plan worked! She was too distracted by the delicious fruit to be mad about the embarrassing song. 

“They are indeed.” he said, watching as she gingerly took a plate from him. He put both cups of coffee onto the nightstand, settling on the edge of the bed. “Happy birthday.”

“How did you find strawberries?” she asked, her eyes still on the food in front of her. It was a simple gesture really, but after all they’d been through, it meant a lot. 

“I still have a few moves in these old bones.” he said. She looked up smiling, her eyes just a touch glassy. He was fully ready to dive into tears of gratitude, but she blinked them away, determined to keep up her tough facade.

“Thank you, Barnes. Really.” she said, leaning forward to kiss him. Their plates tipped a little, causing a few crumbs to dust onto the sheet, but neither one of them cared. They got to sink into the kiss, a sweet start to the morning. Well, afternoon. 

“Of course, Doc. Anything for you.” he said, pulling back. “Now go on, eat.” 

She did as she was told, biting into the breakfast. As soon as the sweet fruit hit her tongue she made a noise that bordered on inappropriate, but since she was currently experiencing nirvana she did not see the surprised look on Bucky’s face. He swallowed down his dirty thoughts, focusing instead on taking a huge gulp of coffee. Of course, the coffee was still extremely hot, which helped to calm him down too. This was the second time he nearly burned himself due to distraction, and he was finding that it was more effective than a cold shower would ever be. 

They finished their breakfast, and she pulled him in for a deep kiss, her lips still tasting of strawberries. He kissed her back, pulling her until she was as close as she could get. She held him tightly, her heart near to bursting with everything she was feeling at that moment.

“Maybe we can call in sick.” she panted, nuzzling against him. He let out a breathy laugh, the air tickling her neck and making goosebumps race down her arms. 

“I wish. But then we’ll never hear the end of it.” he murmured into her hair. “Besides, I’ve still got plans for tonight.”

“Do you now?” she asked, her voice heavy with meaning. That wasn’t what he was trying to imply, but he was certainly hoping. “I get more than just breakfast?”

“Mhmm.” he hummed, planting a wet kiss on her neck and making her gasp so that he wouldn’t be sad that she didn’t expect more than just breakfast. Hadn’t he already said he was going to spoil her today? He then pulled away quickly, giving her a devious grin. “But we’ve gotta go to work first.”

She groaned, gazing skyward and allowing him to land another kiss to her throat. This time she made a noise of indignation, shoving him away with an angry “ _ tease” _ . He maintained his smirk, going behind his partition to get changed into his fatigues. He heard Lu mutter to herself, padding across the creaky floor towards the restroom, though she paused for a moment before closing the door. He realized, with the sun coming through the window behind him, that she could probably see his outline in the same way he could see hers back in her flat. That little  _ minx _ . 

He held her hand all the way to the SSR building, refusing to let go until she kissed him one last time. The afternoon dragged on, the only positive thing being that he knew the day would be short. Peggy already approved their timely dismissal that evening, and with their current mission all finished and wrapped up in the wee hours of the morning, she had no reason to hold them late. When the clock finally turned to five, Bucky tossed a wink at the men around him and went to collect his lady. Lu stood, radiant and nervous, waiting for him in front of the building. The guys all waved to her as they exited, and her confusion and anxiety seemed to grow as each of them walked away.

“What?” Bucky asked, noticing her look. She blinked a couple times, then shook her head.

“Nothing, I just thought...it’s silly.” she said, her voice dropping. 

“Doc, when was the last time you had a birthday party?” he asked, getting her to look back up at him.

“When I turned eighteen, why?” she countered, suddenly suspicious. He sighed.

“No one should go any number of years without a birthday party.” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and leading her away from where the men were going. They were all suspiciously grouped now, and suspiciously quiet, and heading suspiciously away from them. 

“Then where are we going, Barnes?” she asked, trying to look over his shoulder at their departing colleagues. He reached up, fingers grabbing the top of her head and turning it back around.

“We’ll see them later, we have to pick up a package first.” he said, turning down the street that led to the train station. 

“A package?” she asked, earning a sharp  _ hush _ from him. She grumbled something about  _ good for nothing soldiers _ but let it slide, not noticing until it was almost too late that not only was a train in front of them, but that it was deboarding. Lu’s suspicion changed to elation as she saw a familiar face in Army fatigues, big doe eyes searching the crowd for a friend.

“Angela?” she asked, so quiet that Bucky knew for a fact the other woman didn’t hear her. Luckily, Lu realized this as well, and tore away from him crying out, “Angela!”

“Lucille!” the other nurse said, dropping her overnight bag so that she could embrace her friend. Bucky stayed where he was, letting them have their reunion without any male interruptions. He would have plenty of time with Lu, and poor Angela could only get leave for one night. And that was  _ after _ Steve had called and bartered with the Lieutenants. Lu picked up Angela’s bag and allowed the girl to link their elbows, Angela chatting a mile a minute about the new unit she was working with. Both of them gave Bucky bright smiles when they found him again, Angela adding him onto their train.

“Glad you made it safe, Angie.” he said warmly. 

“Thank you for arranging everything Sergeant Barnes! I’ve been missing my partner in crime.” Angela said. She was thinner than the last time they saw her, and despite her excitement they could see the shadows under her eyes. 

“Well we missed you too.” Lu said. She always had a soft spot for Angela, and didn’t realize until then how much she’d missed her. Bucky led them down the street to their favorite pub, where their favorite SSR boys had already staked out the best table. And apparently they were holding it down well, since most of their pints were already mostly empty.

“Really? You couldn’t wait?” he said, hoping that Lu wouldn’t be offended. Luckily, she was still smiling, as if she expected nothing less.

“Of course not! But we saved one for the birthday Doc!” Dugan said, sliding a pint mug her way. Steve held up another one.

“And one for her friend too.” he said, handing it over to Angela with a smile. She blushed, but held his gaze as she thanked him. 

“And none for me? Your brother in arms?” he asked, gesturing to his chest.

“A gentleman fetches his own!” Falsworth said, gesturing towards the bar.

“This gentleman is gonna shove his boot up your ass.” Bucky replied, turning and giving the girls a sweet and innocent grin before going to get his own drink. The bartender winked as he passed him the cup, which normally would unsettle him, but today was a cause for relief. His plan was in action!

They were a couple pints in before dinner was served, a hearty stew of mixed up meat and potatoes. None of them asked what exactly was in it; they’d learned long ago not to ask questions they didn’t want to know the answers to. Lu and Bucky both kept their drinking and eating relatively light, choosing instead to enjoy the company of those around them. Lu liked spending time with the boys, but the way she looked at Angela and the way they leaned to talk like co-conspirators made him very glad that he’d used up one of his Best Friend Cards to have Steve get her here. 

Speaking of, Steve was able to distract Angela so that Bucky could, at least, have a couple minutes to talk to Lu, though the way Steve was smiling made Bucky believe that perhaps the interaction would put another card in the bank for him. Either way, he took Lu’s hand under the table, making her turn to him. She looked so very happy, and so very  _ alive _ . It was the first time since they left the Hydra bunker that she was completely at ease; he was proud of making it happen, of course, but moreso it just brought up his affection for her.

“Having fun?” he asked. Her smile widened, and she squeezed his hand.

“I am, yes.” she replied. “Thank you for all this, Barnes.” She looked so sincere that he felt a blush creeping into his face, and he ended up dropping his eyes for a moment.

“Anything for my girl.” he replied. She tugged on his hand, getting him to look back up at her.

“Seriously. This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” she said. He remembered that morning, when she was surprised not only by breakfast, but also by the fact that he was doing more for her than just that. He also thought of George, who tried to get her to marry him when clearly he didn’t know her at all. That idiot.

“I gotta spoil you sometimes so you don’t leave me.” he joked, making her roll her eyes. He squeezed her hand again, “You deserve the world, Doc. I’m just doing what I can.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that, and for just a moment her guard was completely down and she looked at him with all her love. Goddamn, how did he get so lucky? “Thank you.” she said again, leaning over so that she could leave a lipstick kiss on his cheek. 

“Oi! Get a room!” Falsworth called from across the table. Whatever was in his cups decreased his polish and increased his random British slang. Was this really the same man that had been so cool under pressure with him, all the way back in Italy?

“Save it for later!” Morita added, the others chiming in with  _ yea _ ’s and other less appropriate responses.

“Don’t be jealous, Falsworth. Remember how much of you I’ve seen now.” Lu said, giving him an unimpressed look. The boys really enjoyed that,  _ especially _ Falsworth.

“You’re welcome, love.” he said.

“Watch it.” Bucky said, playing up the growl so it came across as theatrical instead of jealous. Falsworth leaned back, throwing up his hands in the universal sign of surrender.

“No threat from me, Barnes. I’ve seen how good of a shot you are.” he said. He then roped the boys into hearing the tale of their misadventure, leaving out the parts where they’d seen the terrifying Hydra equipment before anyone else. They all liked to pretend they were okay, and it was easy to do so in moments like this, but no one wanted to revisit their nightmares. 

“I’ve got one last surprise for you.” Bucky murmured to Lu, who gave a very satisfying astonished look.

“What else could you possibly do?” she asked. He ignored her, catching the attention of the bartender and giving the signal. The older man nodded, saying something to his patrons at the bar before going back into the kitchen. “Barnes, what else?”

“Just hold on a second.” he said. The door to the kitchen banged open, and the bartender came out with the small cake and single candle. It really was a pitiful size, but Bucky couldn’t think about that fact. He had to remember the war, and the shortage, and that she would surely appreciate it.

And appreciate it she did. “Cake?” she exclaimed, sounding the most excited he’d ever heard. Her eyes were wide when she looked away from the little confection to ask, “You got me a cake?”

“I told you I have magic powers.” he said. This time, when she leaned over to leave lipstick on his face, it was on his lips. The men jeered again, but Lu didn’t have time for that. The bartender placed the cake in front of her, and she gazed at it with unbridled joy before closing her eyes, making a wish, and blowing out the candle. 

“What’d you wish for, Doc?” Steve asked, Angela next to him nodding in agreement.

“I can’t say, otherwise it won’t come true.” she said superstitiously. She picked up a fork, hesitating for just a moment over the adorable pink buttercream before digging in. He had no idea before that moment that she had such a sweet tooth, and now he had exactly zero regrets in spending an exorbitant amount on it. 

“Like it?” he asked. He reached out, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away a bit of icing at the corner of her mouth. She looked like she wanted to save it, but allowed him to eat it instead. 

“Love it.” she said, taking another bite and closing her eyes, savoring it. “I should probably share, huh?”

“It’s your birthday, you can do what you want.” he said with a shrug. Share it or eat the whole thing, he didn’t care. He only cared that she was happy. She looked down at the cake, three-quarters of it still remaining, as if she were solving a very difficult math problem. Finally, she sighed, getting one last taste of it before pushing the plate forward.

“Come on, guys, I can’t eat this whole thing myself.” she said, though he had the very distinct impression that she could. One day, when the war was over and the rationing was done and it didn’t cost him an arm and a leg for one treat, he’d buy her another cake and wouldn’t make her share any of it. The men, of course, jumped at the chance to eat some of it too, descending like a pack of vultures until the plate was clean. Well, so much for that. 

They ordered another round, though neither Lu nor Bucky partook in it, instead just chatting as the others sank a little deeper into their cups. It was well past dark by the time they deemed themselves finished, settling their tabs and stumbling out onto the sidewalk.

“Do you need a place to stay tonight?” Lu asked Angela as they started walking. “I have a place. It’s small, but it’ll work.”

“Captain Rogers very kindly arranged for me to have a room in the officer’s building tonight.” Angela said sweetly, glancing over at Steve with a smile. Bucky was surprised to see the man blush ever so slightly - there, there was the Steve that he’d grown up with, the one that couldn’t handle when a cute girl gave him any sort of attention.

“It wasn’t any trouble.” he mumbled. Bucky and Lu shared a look, and though they exchanged no words he could tell they were sharing the same thought.

“Still,” Angela continued. “It was very nice of you, and I’m very thankful.”

“Of course, anytime.” Steve replied with a smile. Lu looked at Bucky again, silencing him with a look before he could say anything inappropriate. 

“Well, this is our stop.” Lu said, gesturing across the street to their little building. Angela hugged her tightly, and Lu hugged her back just as hard. “What time do you leave in the morning?”

“Just after breakfast.” she said sadly, still not letting go. “I wish we had more time.”

“Hopefully we will soon.” Lu said. “I’ll see you for breakfast then?”

“Bright and early, oh-six-hundred.” Angela replied, finally letting go so she could look Lu in the eye again. The way she said it made it sound like an inside joke, and it was one that Bucky and Steve weren’t privy to. They embraced once more before Lu peeled herself away, her eyes still trailing after Steve and Angela as they walked towards the officers’ building.

“Think he’ll try to hold her hand?” Lu asked without looking away, leaning towards Bucky.

“Absolutely not. He’s way too much of a weenie to make such a bold move.” he laughed. “Plus, I think he’s got something going with Agent Carter.” Lu sighed, shaking her head.

“Shame.” was all she said, finally going in to the building. He walked her to her door on the second floor, and ever the gentleman, assumed that he would give her a chaste kiss goodnight and return to his own flat to take a cold shower. Only when the moon was high in the sky would one of them give in and timidly knock on the door. Lu unlocked her door and let it fall open, but then she stopped, fiddling with her keys for a moment before looking up at him.

“Thank you, for everything today.” she said quietly. He leaned his shoulder against the door frame, which allowed him to be just a bit closer to her face.

“Of course. Couldn’t let your birthday pass by without at least a little fanfare.” he said. Her hand went to his chest, smoothing a wrinkle that wasn’t there as she thought.

“Do you think,” she said, barely above a whisper. “You’d like to stay here with me tonight?”

It wasn’t the first time she’d asked him to spend the night. It wasn’t the tenth time she’d asked that. But it was the first time she’d looked at him like that while she said it, holding her breath and toying with the buttons of his shirt.

“I’d love to.” he said, and instead of seeing relief in her face, it was almost like the words lit a fire in her. 

In an uncharacteristic move, she tugged him into her flat, shutting the door behind them and pulling him in for a searing kiss. He answered in kind, his hands going to the small of her back so he could crush her to his chest. God, she’d never kissed him like this before. Before, there was always a pause, an invisible space between them. But that was gone tonight. Her hands played with the buttons of his shirt, hesitating for just a moment before undoing the first one. Emboldened by this, she undid the second one, and then the third, and moved her way down. Instead of pushing the shirt off her shoulders, her hands simply moved to his belt, unclasping it before he realized what was going on.

“Whoa whoa, slow down there, cowgirl.” he said, and hating himself for it. She stepped back, but he didn’t let her completely step away, keeping his hands on her waist. He saw the pink rising in her cheeks, and quickly went to abate it. “I want you to enjoy this, and take your time. It’s your birthday.”

“I...what? Don’t you want to?” she whispered, and he felt the need to apologize to every woman she’d ever talked to about this. He let his hands slide up her back, pressing her close so she could realize exactly how badly he  _ wanted to _ .

“Let me take care of you for once, okay?” he said, making her breath catch. He put one of his hands on her cheek, and she leaned into the touch before nodding.

“Okay.” she consented. 

“Good. Now, where were we?” he asked rhetorically, going to kiss her again. This one was slow and burning, making her heart actually skip a beat. She wasn’t aware that could actually happen, but here she was, short a heart beat. 

Bucky moved his arms and leaned down just enough to pick her up, walking towards the bed in the middle of the room and somehow still kissing her. She tried to wrap her legs around his waist for safety, but her pencil skirt limited her, which somehow made her feel even more heated. He set her down gently, as if she was light as a feather, before his hands made slow, steady work of the buttons on her blouse. She shivered as the cool air hit her bare stomach, and he put his wide, warm hands over her skin. The touch sent a shiver through her for an entirely different reason, and she found herself yearning for more. 

She slid out of her shirt of her own accord, and this time when she reached for Bucky’s he let her push it off him. They had to break the kiss when she pulled off the tshirt underneath, her hands finally able to run over his chest unhindered. She couldn’t help but sneak a peek - not that he minded; he wasn’t ashamed of his body, and her momentary distraction allowed him to attach his lips to her neck, earning a sharp intake of breath and a slight dig of her fingers into his chest. He kissed down until he found her pulse point, and then continued on to the dip at the hollow of her throat. He finally let his eyes wander over the newly exposed flesh of her sternum and her stomach, her brassiere stubbornly doing its job despite the fact that it was no longer necessary.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he murmured, his voice a little gravelly even to his own ears. A blush bloomed over her neck and chest, and he couldn’t help but lean down and kiss the hot places there. Her hands went into his hair, holding him close and allowing just a bit of cleavage to appear in front of him. He boldly kissed it, ducking back before Lu could decide whether or not she liked it. 

“What…?” she started to ask, then got distracted as he got her to sit down on the edge of the bed. He ran his hands down the panty hose of one leg before getting to her shoe, easily pulling it off. His hands slid back up, stopping at the hem of her skirt.

“Is this okay?” he asked. She nodded, speechless for once in her life. He slid his hands under her skirt, and she took a deep breath and let her knees open as far as the restrictive garment would allow. But he stopped at the edge of her hose, unclipping them and slowly, carefully rolling them down.

“You’re a goddamned tease.” she said when his hands reappeared from under her skirt, still rolling the hose down.

“Teasing is half the fun.” he said, dropping his head and pressing a kiss to every new inch of skin that he uncovered. When that leg was done, he went to the other one and repeated the process, still achingly slow. 

“That’s not what I’ve heard.” she said, knowing that she should be ashamed at how wanton she sounded, but also knowing that this was Bucky, and that he would not judge her. She was definitely nervous, but her nerves were far outweighed by excitement and anticipation. He’d made his references and innuendos all this time, and she was ready for him to show out.

“Listen.” he said, stopping with his hands on her bare knees. “I want you to forget everything you’ve heard.”

“Even the good stuff?” she asked, because of course she couldn’t just let the conversation lie. Of course she had to be a pill about it. She could kick herself, if her damned skirt would allow it. He gave her an unamused look, but at least moved so he was close enough that she could count his eyelashes.

“I’ll let you decide what’s good.” he said, kissing her again. His hand drifted to the zipper of her skirt, pausing with his fingertips on the slider. “Okay?” 

“Yes.” she breathed, standing just slightly so he could tug it down and let her skirt drop around her ankles. She felt very exposed despite still having her underwear on, but Bucky just kissed over her thighs and the bottom of her stomach, his lips feather light across her skin. “This seems a bit unfair.” she said, kicking her skirt to the side. Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll remind you that I am completely topless.” he said. They both expected her to be embarrassed by the line, but she held his gaze. 

“You can remedy that situation.” she murmured. It didn’t come out near as confident as she wanted it to, and wasn’t near as exact as she wanted it to be, but he got the gist. He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, letting them join her skirt off in the corner. 

“Eye for an eye.” he said. Despite his boxers she could very plainly see his response to all their activities, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was fully focused on kissing her again, this time putting his arms around her and moving her so she laid fully on the bed. He settled on top of her, his legs sneaking between hers and fitting there as if he’d always belonged. She shifted, part of him touching a part of her that made her stomach jump. He grinned into the kiss, particularly when she shifted and experienced it again.

“Barnes-”

“Shh, patience.” he whispered, his kisses trailing back down to her neck. His hand went from her waist to her ribs, pausing there and waiting for permission. She touched his wrist, her direction gentle but sure, allowing him to touch her. She arched into his hand, something about what he was doing sending electric shocks through her. Her own hands brushed over her chest every day when she was getting dressed and undressed, and it never felt like  _ this.  _ His finger slid just under the band of her brassiere, and she arched again to give him access to the place where it held at the back. The thing was certainly not easy to unhook, making them both shift and move in ways that made the bed squeak loudly and ominously. They both dissolved into laughter, Bucky resting his head against her sternum for a moment before sitting back on his knees.

“Do you need help?” she asked, sitting up with him.

“No, I just need a minute.” he said, making her laugh all over again. He smiled, half hugging and half wrestling her so he could have two hands on the back of her brassiere and look over her shoulder for a visual of his enemy. These things were too goddamned complicated! He finally got everything unhooked and untied, and sat back quickly holding his vanquished foe over his head.

“I thought you’d done this before!” she said, laughing so hard she forgot that she was half naked in front of him. 

“It’s been a minute, and these things are terrible!” he said, throwing the brassiere dramatically across the room. Only then did the nudity sink in, his eyes traveling down a short road from her face to her chest. “Holy fucking shit, Doc.”

“In a good way?!” she squeaked, immediately throwing her arms over herself. He wanted to laugh, but it died in his throat when he saw her face.

“In the best way. You’re aware I’m batting way out of my league, right?” he said, rubbing her arms in a soothing manner. She relaxed at that, though she didn’t move much.

“I wasn’t aware, no.” she said. “I thought that was me.” 

“Oh, Doc, Doc, Doc,” he started, laying her down again. He put his hands in hers, letting her decide when she was ready to move them away. “You are easily the most beautiful and most wonderful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of being with. Physically, emotionally, spiritually-”

“I get it, Barnes.”

“Grammatically, diagonally-”

“Diagonally?!”

“Bilaterally-”

“I get it, I get it!” she said. He was now laying chest to chest with her, his body molded perfectly to hers. She reached up, running her hands over his cheeks. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” he said, kissing her again. Just like that, her body remembered what they were doing, her blood sizzling beneath her skin. He kissed down her jaw and her neck, pausing at her sternum before moving to explore the new areas of her. She gasped, holding his head where she wanted it, amazed that any part of her could be so sensitive. How did he know this about her? Or was it just a happy accident?

Then, he started kissing lower, from her ribs to her stomach to her belly button, then to the soft spot just beneath it. He hooked his fingers on the waistband of her underwear, but made no move to remove them. Instead he looked up at her, waiting until she gave a shaky nod before sliding them down her legs. She’d never been naked with a man before, and thought she would feel scared, or shy. But really, she just felt exhilarated. 

Bucky kept her knees pressed together, kissing one knee cap and then the other. “Do you trust me?”

“Implicitly.” she answered without a second thought. He gently pried her knees apart, pressing a kiss to the inside of one, then kissing a spot an inch higher. “Barnes…?”

“Yes?” he asked, stopping his movements but not moving his head from between her thighs.

“I...you don’t…” she didn’t know how to phrase the question, that she wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. 

“I’d like to. And I think you’d like it too.” he said, kissing her leg again. 

“But the smell…”

“Baby, you think that bothers me?” he asked, genuinely surprised. He wanted to keep going, to say some very detailed things involving the taste of honey, but he refrained. “Trust me.”

“I trust you.” she said, her green eyes glued to him as he kissed higher and higher on her thigh until he settled at the apex, his lips warm as he pressed them to her. If she thought her chest was sensitive, this was something exponentially more so. He was gentle, so gentle, as he started to work her, and while the feeling was new and different and odd it was also so deeply pleasurable, and before she knew it her fingers were tangled in his hair and she no longer cared about being  _ some type of girl _ with  _ some type of guy _ . Something was winding tighter and tighter inside her, her breaths coming shorter and shorter. “Barnes…”

“Mhmm?” he hummed, making her squeeze his ears with her thighs. He didn’t stop whateverthehell he was doing with his tongue, which at that point was feeling rather exquisite.

“Barnes I…”

“Mhmm.” He held her hips tightly, not changing anything about what he was doing. Words tumbled from her mouth as she hit her peak, but she wasn’t sure if they were curses or praises or just his name over and over. Either way, she saw stars as something released inside her, the waves washing over her until she was left spent, lying on the beach. She could even hear the seagulls...wait, no, that wasn’t seagulls. That was Bucky, laughing softly and entirely too proud of himself.

“I hadn’t heard about that.” she said as he crawled back up to her lips, kissing her soundly. The taste wasn’t what she thought it would be, and though she didn’t enjoy it, it did seem tolerable. 

“I like to have a few surprises now and then.” he said, going to lay beside her and kissing her shoulder. “Did you enjoy that?”

“Very much so, yes.” she replied. She suddenly went still. “Am I - do I need to-” she gestured loosely towards his waist, making him laugh. Toughest gal he’d ever met, and this was the time she couldn’t get her words out.

“It’s your first day, Doc, let’s start with the basics.” he replied, moving to kiss her again.

“But you should-” she interrupted, and he tried his damndest to get her to just keep kissing him. “You need foreplay too-”

“Do I look like I can handle foreplay right now?” he asked, and for the first time she actually looked, and found that he did, in fact, look quite aroused.

“Wow.” she said, not towards any aspect in particular of him but just at the fact that she was here with him, and he very clearly wanted to be with her. 

“Thank you.” he said, looking entirely too proud again. She rolled her eyes.

“That’s not-”

“Ah ah ah don’t ruin this moment for me.” he said, putting a finger over her lips. He soon replaced it with his own lips, starting the fire within her all over again. Whatever snappy comebacks she had melted away, and there was nothing except for the two of them. She pushed down his boxers, and he let her, shimmying them all the way down before kicking them off the bed. She thought to make the next move, but figured that since he  _ technically _ was more knowledgeable, and hadn’t led her astray thus far, that it would be up to him to take the next step. His hand went down her torso to her thigh, pausing there for just a moment. She was inclined to let him lead. Except there was one thing weighing on her.

“I’ve heard-”

“Lucille Elizabeth Peters, what did I tell you about the nonsense you’ve heard?” he said in a rush, looking at her with a gaze that could only be described as  _ smoldering _ . She suddenly felt very small under that gaze, very aware that she was in uncharted waters.

“I’ve just heard that it hurts.” she admitted. He stopped then, propping up on his elbow and going to hold her cheek, making sure she kept her eyes on him.

“If anything hurts, you tell me and we stop.” he said, serious as a heart attack. He wouldn’t claim to have all the answers with all this stuff, but he certainly knew that pain wasn’t supposed to be a player unless explicitly allowed. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know.” she said, believing him despite all the  _ things she’d heard _ . She shifted closer and pulled his face back down, directing his hand where it was before. “I trust you.”

She would never get tired of his kisses, the way his lips moved against hers making her melt inside. His hand slid between her legs, his fingers searching for just a moment before finding the spot his tongue had found earlier. Just like before, he eased her into the sensations, taking note of every response she gave. He stopped his lazy circles, moving lower to find her responding very readily. He touched her for a breath, giving her time to stop him, before easily sliding a finger in. 

She had a thousand questions about what he was doing, but they all fell away. If she had her nurse cap on, she would say that it made sense, that they needed to prepare her for the upcoming activities. But at that moment, all she could focus on was the brand new feeling, which doubled when he added another finger. His movements were slow and enticing, giving her just enough to leave her wanting more. Her head was back against the pillow, her hands already gripping the sheets. 

“I brought protection.” he murmured. They’d been forced to sit through too many PSAs yelling at them to  _ put it on before you put it in _ for him to ever forget. “If you still want this.”

“Yes, yes Barnes I do.” she said. He needed no further encouragement, removing his hand and going to his pants pocket, finding the condom he’d so carefully packed. It had been a minute since he’d used one, but he was able to remember rather quickly, especially given the view of the absolute goddess waiting for him. He moved back onto the bed, laying flush against her where she could barely feel him pressed to her.

“You’re sure?” he asked, one last time. Would he explode if she changed her mind? Maybe. But he would listen.

“I’m sure.” she replied, her voice sounding like they were embarking on some grand adventure. 

“Relax as much as you can, okay?” he said. She nodded, her shoulders softening as she settled into the bed. He took a deep breath and kissed her just as deep before slowly working them together. Lu stiffened slightly and he stopped, pushing his weight into his elbows to ease her a little. “You okay?”

“Yea, yea I’m okay.” she said, almost surprised. He took that as a sign to keep going. This time, she remembered to relax, and soon he was as deep into nirvana as he could be. He checked in one last time before beginning to move, groaning when she gripped him with her whole body. It took everything in him to start off slow; he’d wanted this so bad, he loved her so fucking much -

She murmured something in his ear, and even if his mind didn’t comprehend it his subconscious did, and he started moving a little faster. She made wonderful noises beneath him, her hands going to his rear to pull him even closer. God, had it just been that long since he’d had sex, or was this somehow so much better?! He went as deep as he could, grinding against her and making her legs twitch as every bit of her was stimulated. He was going to lose it very quickly at this point, and he had to do everything he could to make sure she lost it first. His hand couldn’t fit between them, she didn’t seem like she wanted to change positions, God dammit it was her first time and he was going to come first like a fucking  _ teenager _ -

She shifted her hips slightly, and he could  _ feel _ the change in her. She let out a low moan, muffling it by biting his shoulder. He kept on with a steady pace, rocking his hips into her and moving against her as she started trembling and tensing. This time she was silent as she came, her head back against the pillow and her blonde hair splayed around her like a halo. It was his blessing and his curse to watch her, as he didn’t have enough time to warn her before he reached his own end, his hands holding her hard as he groaned into her hair. His rhythm stuttered and changed, and the vision of control he’d held the whole time was instantly gone. Fuck, had it really been  _ that long _ ?!

He realized that he’d settled his full weight on top of her, and eased away, rolling to the side. Of course, the bed was very small, and he was currently very dumb, and he rolled away from the woman he loved and straight onto the floor. If he had any breath left, it would have left him then. As such, all he had left to wound was his pride. From the bed Lu busted out laughing, the sound echoing through the tiny flat. It sounded like magic and music and everything in between. He reached up, floundering his hand around the disheveled blankets before finding her knee and resting it there.

“Whatcha think, Doc?” he asked. She reached out and intertwined their fingers, holding on tightly.

“That was...great.” she said, apparently finding no better words to describe how she felt. Ha ha! She was sex-dumb too! “I wouldn’t mind doing it again in the future.”

“Oh thank God.” he said. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it only made her laugh again, so he didn’t regret it. He left her in the bed laughing, going to the bathroom to clean everything up. She was waiting at the door when he got out, ready for her turn as well. He pulled his boxers back on but left the rest of his clothes, only grabbing his pants so he could fish through the pockets and find his last cigarette. It was too cold to open the window but he did it anyway, settling onto the ledge and taking a long drag. Lu emerged from the restroom moments later, picking up her discarded underwear and his tshirt. Dammit, now even more of them were going to go missing. 

She came to him, settling in between his legs with her back against his chest. He idly put the cigarette to her lips, watching as she took a drag and moving it so she could blow out the smoke. He leaned his temple against hers, holding her tight.

“Happy birthday, Lu.” he said. He so rarely used her real name that it made the moment completely surreal - and completely perfect. Emotions boiled up inside her, threatening to make her cry on the best night she’d had in recent memory, and definitely the best birthday. She blinked them away and pushed them back down, instead choosing to pull Bucky’s arm around her and hold her tight. 

A happy birthday, indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry i didn't update last weekend! life (and this chapter) got away from me, but it's extra long so that makes it ok, right?


	44. Promise - May 17, 2016

**Chapter 44: Promise**

**May 17, 2016**

Years and years ago, Winter read that if a man becomes a widower, he wears his wedding ring on his right hand. And so every day when he first woke up, he took his favorite knife and carved a line into his right ring finger, just deep enough for the skin to bleed and scab over. By the next morning, the wound would be healed, and he would pick up his knife and do it again. Every day for one year, one month, and three days, he reminded himself of what he lost. Of  _ who _ he lost.

Except for today. 

Today, he’d fought a weird amount of people in an airport, jetted off to Siberia, fought Howard Stark’s son, and lost an arm. 

As he leaned against Steve and dragged his feet through the snow, he thought about just one day prior, when an unexpected visitor had shown up at the grubby apartment he’d bartered for in Bucharest. He hadn’t thought about Cero in months, so when she knocked on the door and glared at him when he opened it, it took a moment for him to remember exactly who she was.

“What happened?” she’d asked. Winter had shaken his head and gone to close the door in her face, but she stuck a boot out to stop it. “Look, if this is just some weird lover’s quarrel-”

“She made me promise.” he interrupted. He was immediately on guard, his voice low and hard like the last time he’d seen her, but he found he couldn’t even say Summer’s name - any of them. 

“She’s in again.” Cero said. “And she’s different this time. I tried to get her to come with me but-”

“You shouldn’t have done that. They’ll be able to find you now.” he said, hiding his surprise and stuffing down the desire to ask where she’d seen her. This time, his voice was a little stronger, fueled by concern for Cero as well as fear of what she was about to tell him. Every day he thought of Summer, and fought within himself whether to break his promise to her, or to continue living as she wanted. For a brief period, he was able to convince himself that she was dead, even though he knew that was false.

“I have my ways. Don’t worry about me.” Cero waved him off. It was then he noticed she was dressed in civilian clothes, though she still carried herself as if she might have to fight at any moment. “But you need to go get her.”

Winter had never been a very superstitious person, even when he was Bucky Barnes. But he was starting to think that this was what the old lady who ran the nearby bakery would call  _ a sign _ . Yes, he was done sitting here, living a shell of a life, keeping a promise that he was wrong to make in the first place. He felt his spine straighten, his muscles tingling in anticipation. For the first time in a long time, he had a mission.

“Where did you last see her?” he gave in to the desire.

“On the borderlands of Russia. I was running some recon, and she was just walking, as if she was tracking something.” Cero said. 

“She is the better tracker.” he muttered, his mind whirring. Russia? Did that mean they took her back to Siberia, instead of to the States? What was their end game here? 

Unless they’d charged her with tracking  _ him _ . 

“Do you want help?” Cero asked, and for the first time Winter wondered if she was the one who could read minds. He shook his head.

“No. She’s my responsibility, and I’ve failed her.” he said. “Thank you.”

“Good luck.” Cero said with a nod. She paused for a moment, as if she were trying to either think of something else to say, or garner the courage to say it, but Winter didn’t give her the option. He closed the door in her face and began planning for the next morning; he would need provisions, as well as ways to jog her memory. He started gathering his journals from the corners of the apartment, stacking them on a shelf. One of them still held the pamphlet from the Smithsonian, the corners curled from countless times of opening and closing as Winter mentally flogged himself by staring at Summer’s image. He’d spent the past two years attempting to heal, attempting to be a human again. He was not who he used to be, but he was significantly further along than the last time Summer saw him, even starting to think of himself as  _ Bucky  _ sometimes. And now, he knew how to help her. 

He would need the journals, and music, and food. Real food - not the bullshit that they used to survive on while with Hydra, or on the run. He’d stop by the market in the morning before he left, get some fresh fruits and vegetables-

And then, he’d do what he should have done years ago. He’d go save Summer.

Of course, the next morning Steve showed up and his whole world went to shit, which put a bit of a damper on his rescue plans.

That’s how he ended up back in Siberia, a day late and an arm short. He couldn’t bring himself to apologize to the Stark boy; he knew what he’d done was wrong, but he hadn’t hesitated in the kill. The most he’d done was stand in front of a security camera, forcing his body to do something obvious in an effort to be found. But that hadn’t worked, and no apology was going to make the boy feel better about losing his parents. Winter needed to simply heal from the damage to his arm, and then start his real mission. He was directly opposite from Summer now, the furthest he could be from his target. At least, that’s what he assumed. Zemo had one more surprise for them, waiting in the snow as they stumbled out of the base.

Summer was unbothered by the cold, which was his first clue that she was now once again, completely Summer. She held two knives in bare hands, the fingers clenching as her green eyes slid over her new targets. The wind howled, pushing her hair away from her face to reveal a shaved section of hair and black square on the side of her head, not unlike the ones they’d seen on the dead people back in Russia. For a moment, he was afraid they’d be fighting her corpse, but her skin was too pink and her eyes too sharp, and the light on the square was blinking green instead of red. 

“Doc?” Steve asked, sliding to a halt in the slush. Winter pushed himself to his feet, his arm falling away from Steve’s shoulders. Summer cocked her head to the side, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Do…?” she couldn’t recreate the name, her mouth moving for a moment longer as if she were trying to find the word.

“Summer, stand down.” Winter said, putting the coldness in his voice that he hadn’t used since D.C. He felt Steve stiffen next to him, looking his way. He ignored him. “Mission has changed.”

“Tal...kative.” she stuttered, once again struggling to form the sounds. The chip on her head dug into her temporal lobe, Winter realized. She likely was fighting off expressive aphasia; she might have a bit of receptive aphasia too, though she seemed to comprehend what they were saying. 

“Did you know she was here?” Steve muttered, shifting his weight as Summer took one step towards them.

“She was supposed to be on the border. I was just about to leave to find her when you showed up.” Winter said, uncharacteristically chatty. He shifted his shoulder, and the pain from the artificial nerves went straight up his neck and into his brain, making his vision go black for a moment. He bit back a groan of pain and muttered through gritted teeth, “I don’t know if I can take her.”

“Well, we’re about to find out.” Steve replied as Summer leapt towards them with a feral yell. Her knives sang as she slashed at them, and since he no longer had a metal arm to protect himself, Winter ended up with a sharp cut across his cheek after barely dodging her attack. He was still trying to knit himself back together after the fight in the bunker, and his reactions were slow and clunky. Summer ignored Steve, going only for him in a whirl of blades. Winter was able to shift and land a strong kick on her chest, knocking her backwards, but the hit still cost him a deep cut into his leg. The muscles held when he put his foot down, but they screamed at him in a way that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. 

Steve took that opportunity to grab Summer, his arms tight around her neck, arms, and chest. He should have been able to overpower her, to cut off blood flow to her carotid arteries until she lost consciousness. But Summer did not feel pain or remorse, and slithered her way out by dislocating a vertebra in her neck and sinking her knives into Steve’s thighs. Blood bloomed when she took them out and shoved him back, and she paused to twist her head to an unnatural angle and move the vertebra back into place with a sickening  _ pop _ . This fight was only going to work if they worked  _ together _ . But that didn’t mean that Winter wasn’t going to try and talk her down.

“Summer,” he said. “This isn’t you.” It was the first thing to come to his mind. She blinked, head tilting to the side like a dog trying to hear better. “Remember, we walked away. We escaped them once. And you can do it again. Just stand down, come with me. We can fix everything.” He was rambling at this point he knew, but he was hoping if he kept talking that something in her brain would switch, just a little. Just enough to give them an advantage.

“No.” she said. It was the first clear and concise word that she was able to make. Then she lunged again.

“Your name is Lucille Peters!” he said, rolling through the snow to dodge her attack. The snow felt like bullets when the wiring of his arm came into contact with it, his whole left side feeling cold. 

“No!” she said again, this time a little more frantic. The knives moved faster now, and it took everything in him to stay out of their way. Steve snuck up behind her, grabbing one of her wrists in both of her hands and slingshotting her away, her body flying through the air. She twisted like a cat, landing on her feet and dropping down into a crouch to stabilize. 

“Yes!” Winter said, if only to be a little argumentative. He was so angry with himself for leaving her, so furious that he hadn’t gone after her. “You are not an asset! You are a person!”

“No!” It was the only thing she could reliably say, and she sprang towards him again. He ducked the knives, punching her square in the sternum. He heard the costal cartilage crack with a gross crunching noise, but the pain did not deter her. If anything, he felt more pain in  _ his _ chest at the action. They were supposed to be done hurting each other. That was another thing they’d promised, and that wasn’t one that he’d been willing to break. Until necessity demanded it.

“You don’t have to do this.” he said as she caught her breath, her ribs moving back into place with every inhalation. “Come with us. You’ll be safe.”

“No...safe.” she said, and if his heart wasn’t broken before, it certainly broke then. Luckily, Steve chose that moment of distraction to grab her, twisting her into a full Nelson that Winter would have been proud of circa 1938. He held fast so that she could neither use her arms nor wile her way out of his grip. He had no words for her then, limping up to her. Her eyes went from anger to panic as she tried to escape, making noises of frustration when Steve’s position held true. Winter felt weak and lightheaded as he walked up to her, placing his hand on her neck. He could feel her pulse beating wildly under his fingertips, even as she strained herself to try and break free.

“I’m sorry.” he said, squeezing just hard enough to cut off the blood flow. Color drained from her face, and she slowly started fighting less and less until her eyes rolled back and her body collapsed. Steve let go, and Winter caught her, holding her unconscious form to his chest and repeating those words over and over. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“Buck, we gotta go.” Steve said. The King of Wakanda waved at them from across the snow, a plane now visible. 

“I won’t leave her. Not again.” he said, still holding onto Summer. He didn’t care if he had to drag her body all the way back to Romania, he’d do it. 

“You don’t have to.” Steve said quickly, a hand on his back. “But we have to go  _ now _ . Can you walk?”

“Yea, yea I can-” he stopped as Steve tried to pull Summer from him, gripping her tighter. “I’ve got her.”

“You’ve got one arm. Carry yourself, I’ll carry her.” Steve said. His voice was sharp,  _ Captain mode _ Winter used to call it. And because in his analytical brain he knew that it was, technically, the best way to handle the situation, he let go, even when every fiber of his being told him to hold on. Steve carried Summer with all the reverence she deserved, leaving Winter to carry the weight of his shame and follow him to the aircraft. 

He did not speak for the entire flight, counting on Steve to figure out the logistics while he tended to the still unconscious Summer. The King - T’Challa, his name was - had given her a sedative, and had placed some sort of bead on the black chip to block any tracking signals. Summer laid on a gurney as if asleep, her face completely relaxed. Now close to her, he could see the thin ropes of scar tissue coming from underneath the chip, visible under the close crop of her hair around it. He ran his fingertips over the hair, expecting it to be sharp and prickly like his beard and instead finding it to be soft. The scars were soft too, not thick and keloid like the ones from his metal arm. They were new. They would still disappear. 

“If that is alright with you, Sergeant Barnes.” T’Challa’s warm voice interrupted his thoughts, and he turned to the king.

“I’m sorry?” he asked. He knew he should have been paying attention; years of training told him to hear and see everything. But all he cared about right now was the woman next to him.

“We are going to visit the medical wing of the palace first. I have our best physician on call to tend to you both.” he said. “After the assessment, we can decide on a plan of action.”

“I…” Winter wanted to agree, of course. Both of them were in dire need of advanced medical care, particularly Summer. But part of him also knew that things like this came at a cost. And he only had one marketable trade, one that he swore he’d never go back to. He would do it though. For her. “Name your price.” There was no bitterness in his voice. This was to be a business transaction. How many years of service were they worth?

“No price.” T’Challa said, surprised. He glanced at Steve, who also gave Winter an odd look. Perhaps he should have paid attention more. “Zemo has brought about incredible hurt and pain to the world. I would like to add some good back into it, if I can.”

Winter was stunned speechless. He hadn’t experienced something like this since...since the Dodgers were still in New York. “I will still be in your debt. Both of us would be.”

“There is no debt to repay.”

“What I mean is, you can feel free to change your mind.” Winter offered, making T’Challa go still. “I would give anything for you to save her. Anything.”

Silence hung thick in the air for a moment, and finally T’Challa said, “I’ll keep that in mind.” Even though he was still figuring out human emotions, Winter knew that the King would not. “But for now, welcome to your new home.”

Some invisible barrier lifted, granting him the sight of a lush forest, open plains, and tall spires of a city in the distance. Steve moved to the front of the plane, staring out the window with his jaw lax. Winter refused to leave Summer’s side, but he did move slightly to see flying crafts moving like bugs in the sky, and trains of various shapes and sizes running through the city. Their craft landed on the tallest spire, men and women in white already waiting as they touched down. They boarded as soon as the ramp touched the ground, moving to disconnect Summer’s gurney from the wall. T’Challa spoke to them in a language Winter did not know, and when Winter moved to stay with her, they did not fight him. Steve was close behind, though when they were safe in the hospital bay, T’Challa pulled him away. 

The medical bay was nothing like it had been back in the Hydra bunkers. Here, things were open, and light, and clean. But that did not mean that Winter didn’t flinch any time someone in white moved towards him, or that part of him didn’t wonder what exactly they were injecting into him. He was glad that they kept Summer sedated; if he was fresh out like she was, after years of being stuck in her mind, then this experience would be beyond traumatizing. He sat and he watched her, waiting for this physician to come and see him.

He didn’t know what he expected for a secret country’s  _ best physician _ , but a sixteen year old girl certainly was not it. She marched into the medical bay with every ounce of authority he expected of a chief of medicine, though she was dressed in an asymmetric white dress and chunky boots as opposed to the sleek scrubs of the other staff. She greeted him with the confidence of someone much older, tapping a few more times on a tablet before giving him her full attention.

“Sergeant Barnes.” she said. She held out a hand to shake, and Winter was careful not to squeeze too tight. “I am Princess Shuri. I will be in charge of your recovery.”

“I’m fine. Summer needs you more.” he said. He did not have the energy to tell her that his name was not  _ Sergeant Barnes _ , his only focus was on Summer. It also took him a moment to connect the word  _ princess _ . So, T’Challa’s sister was their best physician? Interesting. Shuri  _ hmph _ ed, tapping on her tablet again.

“Based on these preliminary scans, both of you are in dire need of me.” she said. It wasn’t said in conceit, but with the cool certainty of someone who had realistic knowledge of their intellect and skills. The scientists at Hydra tried to fake that, but Shuri’s was one hundred percent real - and, likely, accurate. “It will take me a few days to reorganize the wiring of your brain and clear the programming from it-”

“You can get that shit out of my head?” Winter interrupted, remembering too late that he was talking to an honest-to-God princess. “Apologies, your highness.”

“Ew, I am not  _ your highness _ .” she waved him off. “Maybe  _ your excellency _ , if I’m feeling particularly regal. But I am not here in a royal capacity. I’m here as a scientist. And yes, I can get  _ that shit _ out of your head.” She said the swear in a whisper, as if afraid that the other staff would pass along her language to her brother. 

“And Summer?” he asked, his eyes sliding to her. Shuri turned to look with him, sighing heavily.

“Her recovery will be more extensive. I must first remove the hardware they have implanted in her brain, and then heal that tissue, and then go about with the removal and rewiring and reprogramming.” she said, her fingers moving restlessly against the back of her tablet, as if she were itching to get started. “I will not know the extent of it until we wake her up and see her brain in action.”

“You’ll need to restrain her.” Winter said mechanically. “Coming out of it is...disorienting. She’s in an unfamiliar setting, which will lead to a fight or flight response. And Hydra has given us enough strength to combine the two.”

“Duly noted.” Shuri said, actually noting it on the screen.

“I should be here when you wake her.” he added, looking to the Princess. She stared back at him for a moment, and though she was definitely the smartest person he’d ever encountered, she was still young enough to wear her emotions on her face. She was trying to decide whether that would be wise or not, and eventually, she settled on an answer.

“I need you to keep her focused for thirty seconds. And then we can sedate her again.” she agreed. Winter nodded, pushing off the table where he was seated and going to stand at the foot of Summer’s bed, each restraint they tied putting another knot in his chest. Through unseen mechanisms, the bed bent and folded into a chair, and he watched on a monitor as her brain waves changed, her heart rate elevated, and she slowly woke up.

As expected, her eyes quickly went from bleary and sleepy to bright and awake, flying around the room as she took in the staff and her state of confinement. She pushed against the restraints and, finding them to be stronger than anticipated, pushed against them harder and harder. She still could not form words, instead just making noises of distress that felt like knives between his ribs.

“Summer. Summer!” Winter said, and her face snapped to his. “Focus. New mission.” 

She blinked furiously, as if she weren’t sure if he were a hallucination. “Wi...Ba…” she tried to form any of his familiar names, which was a good sign. However, she couldn’t actually speak them, which wasn’t as good of a sign. She seemed to realize this, and her chest began rising and falling as panic built. “Can...ta…”

“They put something in your brain. You can’t speak right now, but you can understand me, right?” he said. He longed to touch her, to see for sure that she was real, but he kept enough distance for the staff to work. “These people are going to fix us. We’re done this time. For real.” he said. She still looked at him as if he were a dream, and he noticed her right hand in a fist, gesturing towards herself. Her mouth couldn’t form words, but her hands still could.  _ Help me _ . “They’re helping us. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I didn’t come after you.” 

One finger gestured to her lips, unable to reach them, then she moved it away, showing him a flat palm and open hand.  _ Promise _ .

“I should have broken that fucking promise.” he said fiercely. Her hands moved slightly as she tried to decide her next word, but then the staff started moving around her again, and her attention shifted. 

“That’s good, we have enough data.” the Princess said, and Summer quickly looked between her and Winter. He knew how it looked - that he’d betrayed her to these people - but he did not have the time to explain to her. “Sedate her again.”

“I love you.” he said as the sedation took hold. He looked to her hands to see if she had a response, but the medication was too fast, and her fingers were limp in their restraints. He reached out then to gently touch them, finding them cold. If that wasn’t the way he remembered them, he might have been worried. But it just felt familiar. The staff moved away quietly, giving him space as he tried to reconcile everything that had happened in the past forty-eight hours. He knew he needed to worry about the future, but he didn’t have the capacity for it at that moment. 

“I can show you to your quarters, Sergeant Barnes.” Shuri said quietly. She tapped her bracelet, and Summer’s chair turned back into a bed. 

“Where will you keep her?” he asked.

“The sedative she is on is powerful, and I do not want to alter her body processes too much before we get to work. I know that cryogenic sedation is not ideal, but it may be our best option for now, so she can rest.”

“We’re used to it.” Winter said. He turned to the Princess. “You can just put me next to her.”

Shuri looked confused. “We have an apartment for you.” 

He shook his head. “My mind can’t be trusted. I would feel safer if I was under the ice with her.” he said. It occurred to him, looking at Summer, exactly how far he’d come since walking away. He’d done it all on his own, no matter how painful and frustrating it was. Hopefully, he could ease the process for her. 

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Shuri nodded, once again consulting her tablet before facing him. “Very well. I will make the necessary arrangements. Please have a seat, I’m sure Captain Rogers will want to speak with you.” she said. He followed her instructions, and by the time he turned around she was gone, the sound of her boots echoing from the hallway. Summer slept, though her fingers twitched every once in a while, as if she were fighting the sedation. She was so goddamned strong, and he loved her so goddamned much. He wasn’t going to fail her again, not this time.

Summer was back at square one. But this time, she’d have a guide for her recovery.


	45. Signs - March 21, 1944

**Chapter 45: Signs**

**March 21, 1944**

Lu paced the long corridor between the medical bay and the back door, checking through the windows every time for any signs of life in the darkness. Howard was supposed to bring the boys back from their mission tonight. And Howard was supposed to bring them back over two hours ago. 

She didn’t like being a person who assumed the worst, but when one’s occupation often involved deadly wounds and traumatic amputations, one tended to develop a bit more pessimism than the average person. So for the past two hours, she’d been pacing, and looking, and thinking of more and more terrible ways that Barnes had gotten injured - or worse, killed. Or, depending on the injury, death might be preferable. But she couldn’t do anything about it until Howard  _ brought them back _ . 

“Nurse Peters.” Agent Carter’s accent cut sharply through the quiet hallway, and like a good soldier Lu turned an abrupt about-face and stood up straight, staring back at the other woman with a mixture of fear and trepidation. Agent Carter was silent for a moment, and just when Lu thought for sure her head was about to explode with apprehension, she spoke again. “Mr. Stark is on his way back. You would be wise to ready the beds, instead of walking a trench in my floor.”

“Wouldn’t walk a trench if information was shared more readily.” Lu snapped, defensive now that her fear was nearly choking her. Her feet, previously frozen to the floor, now moved fast as she aimed for the medical bay again. Agent Carter watched with each step, never dropping her gaze.

“I only just got word.” she said, also defensive. As Lu got closer, she realized that Peggy was paler than usual, and her curls were just barely mussed, as if she’d been running a hand through her hair and then tried to fix them. 

“How many?” Lu asked, trying to make her tone more even. It wouldn’t help to get snippy with Agent Carter...not that she was going to apologize for it. 

“Everyone’s still alive.” Agent Carter replied, an unspoken  _ for now _ hanging between them. “But a majority of them are injured.”

“Barnes?” Lu asked, her voice cracking and giving away how invested she was in the answer. For the first time, Agent Carter dropped her eyes.

“I don’t know. There’s bad weather, and communications were less than reliable.” she said. As if to emphasize her statement, lightning flashed, illuminating the entire hallway for a split second. Now the storm was close enough that, a minute later, thunder rolled overhead. Lu nodded.

“I’ll get the bay ready.” she said, hesitating for a moment before reaching out. Another woman might have squeezed Agent Carter’s hand, or pulled her into a hug, but Lu was still learning how to accept friendship again, so she simply touched the back of Agent Carter’s wrist before retreating to her sanctum.

There was no way to know what kinds of injuries they’d be expecting, so Lu prepared for everything. She organized her bandages, and her antiseptic, and every pair of forceps she had. Then she made sure her scalpels and clamps were clean and in order, and put together all her stitch kits. With nothing else to do but wait, she kept rearranging the rolling trays, or putting more space between the cots, or anything else to keep her hands busy. When she first heard the plane, she thought it was another roll of thunder, and only when the rumble continued did she realize that the boys were landing. 

Rain was coming down in sheets now, and her heart was in her throat as she watched the headlights get closer and closer to the runway. Agent Carter stood next to her, both of them silent as they watched the approach. The ground had to be slick as an oiled pig, which was probably not ideal landing conditions. Memories of planes sliding off the edge of the battle ships threatened to distract her, but Lu pinched her arm hard enough to break the spell before it had time to take hold. Losing her cool wasn’t going to help right now. The headlights bounced and she could hear the screech of tires meeting asphalt even through the doors, then another screech as the plane actually stuck the landing. The rear lights fishtailed slightly as the plane skidded down the runway, and before Agent Carter had time to tell her  _ no _ Lu was pulling on an oversized raincoat and a hat that didn’t belong to her. When she slightly pushed the door the wind grabbed it and slammed it open, making her stumble for a few steps until she got her feet underneath her. Her loafers were not ideal for running in the rain and her feet were soaked through in moments, but she didn’t care. She had one goal in mind. 

The ramp was down by the time she got to it. Steve was the first person she saw, trudging down with careful precision so as to not hurt the men he was carrying. He had one over each shoulder, with Dugan’s bowler hat clutched in one hand. Behind him, Morita and Falsworth had Barnes under the arms, half dragging and half helping him from the plane. Jones limped out after them, clutching his arm as the tan coat he wore steadily turned a dark shade of maroon.

“What happened?” she yelled over the rain, holding her hat so the wind wouldn’t take it away. Lightning flashed again and thunder followed it a breath later; the storm was getting closer. Steve knew this and didn’t break stride, forcing Lu to turn with him before she could examine Barnes.

“Explosion!” he called back, hoisting one of the men (it turned out to be Dernier) higher on his shoulder. “Damn snakes blew it before we had a chance to!”

“Which means they had good information!” Lu flinched as Howard Stark ran around them, his words barely reaching them as he sprinted towards the door. She thought he was going to hold the door for them, to help usher in the injured, but he barely opened it enough to get through before continuing his sprint. Typical. 

“Is Barnes…?” she glanced back over her shoulder, thinking that surely they wouldn’t carry him like that if he was severely injured or dead. They were full on dragging him now, his head lolled forward and limp.

“I think he’ll be okay. Got his bell rung pretty good though.” Steve said. They finally reached the door, Lu holding it open as they filed in. It suddenly seemed too quiet the moment the door closed, the squeaking of her leather shoes on the linoleum floor feeling like ice picks on the back of her neck. The half walk, half run to the medical wing felt like a mile and a half by the time they got there, but Lu’s energy spiked with her adrenaline as they reached her beautifully organized area. She had prepared for this. She could do this. 

“Dugan and Dernier there.” she pointed Steve towards two beds on the one side of the room. “Put Barnes on that one, and Jones, take the bed next to him.” It was easy for Falsworth and Morita to position Barnes, and without instruction they went to help Steve so he wouldn’t have to drop his comrades like sacks of potatoes onto the beds. “Who else is injured?”

“Superficial. I gotta go give my report to Pe-Agent Carter.” Steve said. They both pretended to ignore the near slip up. He did have a fair bit of superficial wounds on his face, but nothing that seemed to be actively bleeding or poking through his uniform, and his limbs were able to move unencumbered. “Unless you need my help here?”

“No, you’ll get in the way.” she said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. She turned to Falsworth and Morita. Falsworth held up his hands, whereas Morita crossed his arms over his chest.

“Just tell us where you want us, Doc.” Morita said. He may have only been trained as a field medic, but his help would be immeasurable here. Lu felt the last of her panic diffuse from her blood; it was time to get to work.

“Falsworth, out.” she said. The man nodded and obeyed, skirting around the two other medics in white that just arrived. “Was the bus running late, boys?” she asked sharply, knowing that Agent Carter had called them well over an hour ago. They stammered their replies, but she ignored them, acutely aware that Barnes was still unconscious on the bed to her right. She jerked her head towards the others. “One of you stabilize Jones. The other help Morita with Dugan and Dernier.” 

It was no secret by now that Barnes was her favorite, and no secret why. The boys didn’t mind it, or if they did, they didn’t say anything. She went to Barnes’ bedside, quickly checking for breathing and a pulse. Most of his wounds, like Steve, were superficial scrapes, but he had a lump the size of an egg on the back of his head and dried blood trickling from both ears. She carefully checked the fluid, holding her breath as she determined whether it was only blood or if cerebrospinal fluid was present as well.

“He was closest to the blast.” Jones said, his uninjured hand gripping the sheets as one of the medics cut away the sleeve of his jacket and started mapping the bits of shrapnel embedded in his dark skin. “The rest of us were outside, that’s why we got hit with all the shit. Cap was right there with him, that’s why there’s not much damage, but I mean...they  _ flew _ .” Jones was starting to shake now, his breaths coming shorter as he saw the damage to his arm. Even from this distance, Lu knew that it would heal properly and he wouldn’t lose function, but seeing bits of concrete and glass sticking out of skin does something to a person. His face paled, a bead of sweat sliding down the side of it.

“He’s about to pass out. Lay him down, put his legs up.” Lu barked just as his eyes rolled back. Luckily the medic was quick on his feet, catching Jones by the collar and easing him down onto his back. They had no bolsters for his legs, so the medic was forced to hold his legs up himself and try to keep track of the vitals. Underneath her fingertips Barnes’ pulse started raising, and she turned her attention to him as he regained consciousness, his eyes snapping open. His pupils, which should have been pinpoints thanks to the bright lights of the wing, were blown and wide as he swerved his head around.

“What-where am-” he couldn’t finish the sentence, his face going pale and his eyes shaking rapidly as he leaned over the side of the bed. Luckily, Lu had also planned for this, and was able to almost move the trash can underneath before he got sick.  _ Had his bell rung _ her ass. The man was full on concussed. Barnes’ stomach settled enough for him to turn towards her, though by the way he was concentrating she wanted to ask how many of her he was seeing. “Doc? Why’s it so bright? Did I die?”

His voice was loud, too loud, and she gently shushed him before he could lead anyone else into a panic. Dugan and Dernier were still out cold, though they were now settled and hooked up to IVs with fluids. “It’s okay, you’re safe, you’re here.”

He stared at her long and hard, as if he wasn’t sure if she was a hallucination or not. She would later find out that he really  _ did _ think he was imagining her, but that was beside the point. “Doc? I can’t hear you.”

He looked like the admission made his blood run cold, but it did not scare her. Plenty of soldiers got shell shocked, and depending on the degree of the hit on their eardrums, recovered at least most of their hearing in a few weeks. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” she said, exaggerating the words so that he could read her lips. 

“I’m ‘okay’?! I’m not fucking okay! I can’t fucking hear!” he said, his voice still too loud and now cracking as he spoke, telling of the likely smoke damage to his throat. He gripped her arms, and in a completely unprofessional way, she put her hands on his cheeks. 

“Calm down.” she said quietly, knowing her volume didn’t matter. “Calm down and breathe.”

“Calm do-” She interrupted him by putting her finger to her lips, the international sign for  _ shut the fuck up _ . He let go of one of her arms, both of them not noticing the finger marks left there from his grip. His hand went to his throat and he massaged it awkwardly, leaning over to cough harshly away from her. “Ow.” he said when he settled back down, though this time his voice was consciously quieter. “I feel funny, Doc.”

“I know.” she said. She went to continue explaining, but figured that some of it would be lost on him. She held up a finger, telling him to wait, and went to grab the notepad and pencil from the desk.  _ You have a concussion _ , she wrote.  _ And damage to your eardrums and throat. All of it should heal _ .

“‘Should’?” he said once he finished reading. His voice was even scratchier now, and he tried to clear it but ended up wincing. She nodded.

“Rest.” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and gently laying her hands there. It had been a minute since she’d used the sign language they taught her, and she hoped it would come back to her. It would be better to teach him a little bit now, since the pain from the smoke inhalation was going to get worse before it got better. She held up three fingers, tapping close to the edge of her mouth. “Water?”

Barnes furrowed his brows, his glassy eyes flashing as he recognized what she was doing. He copied her motion. “Water.” he said, making sure he understood. She nodded, and ordered one of the other medics to get him and Jones some water while she saw to Dugan and Dernier. They were both just starting to return to the land of the living, their eyes shifting beneath their lids and their faces grimacing in pain. The medics and Morita had found their wounds, which seemed to be limited to the side of them that was probably facing the blast when it happened. They hadn’t encountered as many projectiles as Jones, their arms and torsos peppered with bruises and scrapes. They’d probably been closer to walls, getting hit with chunks of concrete rather than window glass. She checked their ears and found no blood; they were likely fine in the hearing department. 

“What the-” Dugan was the first to rouse, groaning heavily and clutching his head. He regretted that movement, groaning again and clutching his ribs. “I feel like I’ve been hit with a goddamned wrecking ball.”

“I think you got hit with a bunker wall.” Lu said, moving his hand away and getting his attention. “Can you hear me, Dugan?”

“Loud and clear, Doc. But why in the hell are these lights so bright? Jeeze.” he said, turning his head away. He spotted his bowler hat on the nearby table and grabbed it, laying it haphazardly over his entire face. “There. That’s better.”

“Can you feel this?” Lu asked, squeezing his feet and ankles through his boots. He jerked away from her prodding.

“Unfortunately.” he said gravely. She noticed there was dust and ash stuck in his red mustache. As if he just noticed it too, he sneezed loudly, letting out an even louder “FUCK” as the pain lanced through his ribcage. Lu started feeling the areas that got hit, ignoring his wriggling and complaining.

“Ribs are bruised, but I don’t think they’re broken.” she said. She went on to feel his stomach; there were no spots that felt any different than they should, and he didn’t squirm the way he had with his injured areas. “Congrats, you actually managed to protect your vital organs.”

“See, darlin’, I’m just that quick on the draw.” he said, lifting up his head and giving her a grin.

“‘Ey Dum Dum, whatever you just said, quit it!” Barnes called overly loudly from across the aisle, decidedly  _ not _ resting like she told him to. Dugan laughed and Lu gave Barnes a harsh glare, putting her finger to her lips again and gesturing in non-sign language for him to lay back down. He rolled his eyes (and regretted it) before following her instruction. She saw that the other medic now had Jones back stable, and was working on removing the shards from his arm. 

“We’re gonna finish this round of fluids and keep you overnight for observation. I don’t think you have any internal bleeding, but I don’t want to take the chance of sending you home too soon.” she said, taking another peek at his torso to make sure no new bruises had formed. Dernier was now awake and much calmer than his colleagues. Morita and the other medic, now done dispensing water, gave him a thorough check and determined that like Dugan, he needed a night of observation. With everyone stable and Jones slowly getting de-glassed, she could now take the first full breath that she’d managed that night. The clock on the far wall told her it was just past eleven; it was going to be a long night. 

“You good, Doc?” Morita asked, bringing her mind back down to earth.

“Hm? Oh, yes. I’m fine. Are you? We haven’t even checked you yet.” she said, reaching for his arm. He gently shrugged her off, shaking his head. 

“I was out flagging down Stark, so I missed the whole thing.” he said, something in his tone sounding less than grateful. Later, psychologists would attribute the feeling to  _ survivor’s guilt _ , and it was a sensation that Lu understood very well.

“I’m glad you missed out, otherwise these boys might not have made it.” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I can’t fix ‘em if you don’t stabilize them in the field.”

“Maybe.” he said, noncommittal. She knew that she should comfort him, should reach out and tell him that this was a tough business they were in and they were all doing the best they could, but her energy was tanking now that the first wave was done, and she was going to have to rally to make it through the night.

“Go. Find Steve and Falsworth, give your report to Agent Carter. I’ll need you back here to relieve me in the morning.” she said. She could feel Barnes’ eyes on her from his bed, but he was staying quiet, trying to read her lips. He’d probably been watching her the whole time, but this was the first time she actually noticed. Morita gave her a mock salute.

“Yes, ma’am.” he said, taking one last cursory glance around the hospital before stepping out. Lu took in another deep breath, putting all the pieces of her back in place before getting back to work. She checked Dugan and Durnier again before giving them some pain medicine, both of them going to sleep before their IV was finished rehydrating them. She joined the other medic and Jones’ bedside, helping to get the finer pieces of glass out and stitching up the deeper cuts. Everywhere she went, she was aware of Barnes’ eyes on her. She knew he had to be nervous, but his injuries were not the most pressing. Besides, he would get plenty of attention soon enough. 

“There you go, Gabe.” she said softly, finishing the dressing on the wounds. He nodded, settling into the cot. His eyelids started drooping as the pain medicine hit.

“Thanks, Doc.” he said. She took one last listen to his lungs as he drifted off; no one else had the signs of smoke inhalation except for Barnes. 

“You can go to the barracks. I’ll keep watch tonight.” she said to the other medics. They knew better than to mess with her now, as well as to sleep any chance they got. They both nodded at her and bid her goodnight, leaving her alone with three sleeping men and her love. She went to Barnes’ cot, and instead of tucking him in, helped him slowly sit up, stacking spare pillows until he could rest comfortably against the wireframe. 

“Thanks.” he whispered, discomfort evident even with the single word. She sat at the edge of the cot, putting her three fingers to the corner of her mouth again.  _ Water? _ He opened his mouth to respond before remembering the pain, settling for a nod. She poured him a cup, and as he took careful sips she wrote on the notepad:  _ You have to stay up all night. Concussion protocol _ . He made a face at that, shaking his head and effectively dizzying himself. She put her hands on his face again, getting him to focus on her.

“I don’t make the rules.” she mouthed the words more than she spoke them. He nodded, gesturing for the notepad and pencil.

_ How did you learn signs? _ It was a fair question, and she sat up a little straighter as she wrote her answer.

_ Pearl. A lot of us had the same problem. Orderly taught us. _ She figured that would be explanation enough, but she was ready if he had other questions. Luckily, the concussion didn’t let him focus on one subject for long.

_ Teach me more _ . His writing, normally blocky and linear, was a little loopy and sloppy. She smiled, touching all her fingertips to each other and then tapping them together in front of her. When he gave her a confused look, she mouthed the word “more,” making him sigh. She thought her joke was funny, and he clearly was not amused, which only made it funnier to her. But of course, he was never one to be kept down for long. He grabbed the notepad again.

_ Please kiss _ . He had his normal, self satisfied grin back, waiting like a good student with his hands on his lap and his eyes on the teacher. It was Lu’s turn to be unamused, but she took a glance around the bay before putting her open hand on her chest and rubbing a circle, then touching her fingertips to her lips and then her cheek. He smiled, copying her movements perfectly, and then leaning forward expectantly. She relented, remembering how scared she’d been when they were late, and letting herself feel for just a second the intense relief of him returning home. It was a brief kiss, gentle as a spring breeze, and just as invigorating. She pulled back, but he was immediately touching his fingertips together in front of his chest.  _ More _ . 

He was such a good student. How could she deny him? So she kissed him again. And when he asked for more, she smiled as she kissed him one more time. 

“Is this a bad time?” Steve murmured from the door. His voice was hoarse too; he’d likely breathed in the smoke too, but whatever Stark did to him was helping his body heal fast. Lu tried to jump away but Barnes held onto her, keeping her close.

“Yes!” he tried to say, but his voice was completely gone. He started coughing, and Lu grabbed a nearby handkerchief for him to cover his mouth. He looked terrified as he pulled away, as everything he coughed up was tinged with gray and black. 

“It’s okay.” Lu whispered. She forgot the actual sign for  _ smoke _ , so she just held two fingers to her lips like there was a cigarette between them. “Smoke.” she said, just in case that helped better than the pantomime. He seemed to understand then, leaning back against his pillows and turning back to Steve, lifting his chin in a question. 

“You okay?” Steve asked, pulling up a nearby chair and sitting down. Barnes nodded, tapping his ears.

“Hearing’s gone AWOL.” he rasped. Lu put another cup of water in his hands, preventing him from speaking further. 

“Both eardrums were perforated, but they should be healed in a few weeks. I’m more worried about the concussion.” she said, making sure to tilt her face towards Bucky so that he could read her lips. She still remembered what it was like when Pearl was all done, her own head completely shell shocked by all the bombs. Nothing was worse than knowing that people were talking about you right in front of you, but having no idea what they were saying. 

“Concussion?” Steve asked, looking at Barnes and showing that he had a trail of blood from one ear too. Barnes, having no clue what to say and no real desire to say  _ anything _ , simply shrugged.

“He just needs to stay up all night. Make sure everything’s okay.” she said. Steve nodded, one corner of his mouth quirking in a cheeky grin.

“I’d offer to help, but I feel like you’ve got it taken care of.” he said. She hated that she blushed so hard at such a simple statement, and even if it wasn’t lewd or implicating anything, Barnes reached out and slapped Steve’s leg anyway. Steve held up his hands. “Right, right, I got it. How are the others?”

“Stable. Jones got the worst of it, but we were able to get all the glass out of his arm. The other two just have some bruises that are going to turn amazing colors.” she said, looking at all her patients and clocking their status. She turned back to Steve, and this time she didn’t let Barnes see what she was saying. “Thank you. For protecting him.”

“Anytime.” Steve said. Lu grabbed his chin, turning to check his ear. Same as Barnes - no cerebrospinal fluid.

“Having trouble hearing too?” she asked. Steve shrugged; clearly he could understand her, so it must have just gotten him on the left side.

“This one didn’t work too well before the serum. Just a taste of the good ol’ days.” he said. Ah, that made sense. He cleared his throat, and his voice already sounded clearer than earlier when he said, “I’m going to stay down the hall in the barracks tonight. Come get me if you need anything.”

“I will. Thanks, Steve.” she said. He smiled, patting her knee and nodding at Barnes before getting up and taking his leave. Lu turned back to Barnes to find him smiling fondly. He picked up the pencil again.

_ How do you say I love you? _

She blushed deeper when she read that, but was able to hold his gaze as she pointed to her chest, then crossed her arms over her heart, and then pointed at him. He smiled, returning the gesture to her. She had a sudden thought of a way to send him off in the future, and grabbed the paper.

_ OR _ she wrote in large letters, holding up her hand with her middle and ring finger tucked down, keeping her thumb, first finger, and pinkie up. She traced the letters I, L, and Y with her other hand, showing him how the simple sign meant  _ I love you _ . He nodded his understanding, and then she twirled her first finger as she held it. When he gave her a questioning glance, she wrote on the paper,  _ forever _ . Technically it meant somewhere along the lines of  _ for always _ , but  _ forever _ sounded a little more romantic. 

He disregarded signs at that point, sliding his hand into her hair and pulling her in for another kiss. She hated seeing him hurting, especially something that was so difficult for so many people. But even if he didn’t heal, they could still communicate. And if he did heal, then now they had their own secret language. She liked the idea of that. 

It was going to be a long night. But it would not be a dull one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok just so we're clear, if you lose consciousness from a blow to the head you need to go to the hospital. If it's just a mild concussion, then please, please sleep. Research shows that the brain needs rest from pretty much everything in order to heal properly. This has been a PSA from your local physical therapist.
> 
> Also listen Lu and Bucky having their own secret language just. Breathes life into my soul. Thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter! We'll get to see more hesitant/fluffy moments now it's gonna be a blast.
> 
> Is anyone doing NaNoWriMo? I'm planning on participating, so updates may be a little slow for the month of November depending how well I manage my time. If you want a buddy, my username is whindsor on the site, and I have the same URL if you do the tumblr thing. 
> 
> Hope everyone is staying well and staying safe! Please let me know what you thought of this chapter!


	46. Aphasia - June 21, 2016

**Chapter 46: Aphasia**

**June 21, 2016**

Wakanda was really fucking hot.

And Summer  _ loved it _ .

That was the first thing that came to her mind when it defrosted. She didn’t remember who she was, or how she got there, or anything that had happened to her. She didn’t know about Hydra and Winter and Lucille Peters and Bucky Barnes. All she knew was that finally, for the first time in her life, she was warm. 

Bits and pieces started coming back to her as the warmth faded slightly. She realized she was laying down on her back, probably on some sort of pallet. Her head ached terribly, making her wary to open her eyes and leading her to keep them closed as she took inventory of her body. She had memories of her times with Hydra - all three of them - and knew that the next step was to catalogue and address any injuries. But somehow, nothing hurt except for her head, and the memories didn’t have the same sting that she knew they had before. 

She took a deep breath, feeling the joints in her spine pop as she took in as much air as possible. She could smell dirt, and herbs, and water, and the distinct class recess smell of children (what was recess? She didn’t know). The headache subsided enough for her to open her eyes, three dark faces greeting her. In the back of her head, she knew they were just kids, but at the forefront of her mind their face paint set off alarms. They looked similar to the decal plastered on all the walls where they kept her, and she was lucky that the back of her mind managed to leash in the front of her mind so that she quickly retreated to the back of the tent instead of lashing out towards the kids. Her sudden movements frightened them; their smiles dropped and they scuffled back, huddling together as a group. She didn’t want to scare them; if anything, she was probably more frightened of them, coiled like a snake trying to escape.

_ Where am I? _ She tried to say it out loud, but she could only manage the first sounds, and pain lanced through her brain on the left side. “Shit.” she said, that word coming out perfect and clear as she put a hand to her head. Her hair was short on that side, and her fingers expected to find...something. She remembered the men in white coats holding her down, remembered the sound of the clippers and seeing her yellow hair fall onto the floor. She remembered the pain as something tore through her skin and her skull...and then she remembered nothing.

The children, apparently deciding to listen to their fear, screamed and tumbled out of the tent, shouting in a language that she didn’t understand. But she didn’t need to know what they said to know what their goal was: someone was coming. For her. She scrambled to her feet, her muscles feeling stiff and tired as if she’d just run hundreds of miles. Her vision swam, but the ground was solid beneath her feet, and she could still see the opening of the tent thanks to the bright sunshine outside. 

A moment later, that light was eclipsed, but not by a man in a white coat or tactical gear. She skidded to a stop and her eyes caught up a moment later, taking in the sight of the young Black woman (girl?) in front of her. The woman put her hands up, showing that she had no weapons and implying that she was not going to hurt her. Summer could feel her chest heaving as she tried to suck in air and quell the panic in her. Where was she? Where was Winter?

“Miss Peters, my name is Shuri.” the girl said. As she spoke, Summer realized she was definitely a girl, her higher pitched voice velvet smooth as she spoke. “I’m here to help you.”

“Wh...wh...shit.” she said again, blinking as the pain hit her again. It wasn’t as painful as before; her body was catching up and trying to heal.

“The device they implanted into your brain damaged the area responsible for language production.” Shuri explained. She was very calm for someone so young, and Summer couldn’t help but think that she would have made a good nurse in the war. She didn’t know where the thought came from, and didn’t bother to ruminate on it after it passed. “But Sergeant Bar - I mean, Bucky, says that you can still use sign language.”

Sign language? When did she learn sign language? She closed her fist, but instead of using it to punch, she simply flexed her wrist a few times.  _ Yes _ . Oh shit, she knew sign language! Shuri’s face brightened.

“Excellent! I’ve been watching some videos trying to learn. I’m not fluent though, so we may just stick to yes or no questions.” she explained. She held a hand out - not as a sign, but as an offering, wanting Summer to take it. She hesitated, not completely trusting the tender gesture, but this girl spoke of Winter, and demonstrated no signs of untruth. Slowly, with great trepidation, she reached out and took her hand. Shuri immediately grasped her fingers in her warm grip, making Summer recoil, using too much of her strength to pull her hand away. Shuri was startled for a moment, but then put her hands up again. Even with her brain addled and fried, Summer still knew that the gesture was one of peace.

“I…” she could feel her brain fixing itself, but the words still got stuck between there and her mouth. Besides, what was she going to say? That she was sorry? She wasn’t. She just had questions - hundreds of them.

“This is all a lot for you, I’m sure.” Shuri said, and again Summer thought something about nursing for her. She stayed remarkably calm for someone so young, especially considering she likely knew her and Winter’s past. “You’ve been through a lot. But you’re on the mend now, and I’d like to take you to go see Bucky. Is that okay?”

“Int?” she asked, her mouth missing the first and last bits of his name. But apparently, Shuri was intelligent enough to fill in the blanks. She nodded.

“Yes. He’s been pestering me every day, asking if you’ve woken up. It’ll be fun to surprise him.” she said with a devious grin. Did she not realize she was in the company of someone incredibly dangerous, and teetering close to being unhinged? Summer wasn’t even sure what was holding her back from snapping the girl’s neck and making a break for it, but she was sure it had something to do with Winter.

“Okay.” she said, relief flooding over her as the word got out. Shuri beckoned and started walking, turning her back on her. What trust she had! Summer could kill her in so many ways, and she wouldn’t see any of them coming.

But they weren’t killing anymore, were they?

But Hydra said she had to. They put the collar on her. Except the collar didn’t go around her neck, but in her head. 

She didn’t want to kill anymore. She remembered having that thought, before they started drilling into her head. 

Where in the hell was Winter?

“Miss Peters?” Shuri asked, and Summer realized she’d stopped following. The girl had a safe amount of space between them now - safe, assuming she was concealing a weapon of some kind. Summer nodded and started moving again, following the girl over the crest of a hill. Down in the valley below was a house. It wasn’t large or modern by any means, and if it weren’t for the three goats grazing nearby she might have thought it was abandoned. But why would the girl bring her to an abandoned house?

Unless this was a trap. 

She stopped moving again, the sound of her feet skidding over the grass just loud enough to alert Shuri. She stopped too, turning her head just enough to look over her shoulder. When she saw Summer’s defensive stance, she fully turned, once again putting her hands up in peace. 

“I promise, Miss Peters, you’re safe here.” she said softly. Her voice was gentle in a genuine way, not the fake suede that the Hydra operatives used. But Summer didn’t -  _ couldn’t _ \- believe her. 

“Wi - in - shit!” she sputtered. She needed to see Winter now, see that he was okay and that this was really a trustworthy source, or she was going to lose what mind she had left and take to the woods. She thought she’d be able to speak again, but she was so flustered that her lips felt like they were full of lead. 

“We’re going to Bu - Winter right now.” Shuri said, and hearing her call him by his name made her relax just slightly. Shuri gestured at the house, her voice shaking slightly as she spoke again. “He’s there, I promise. You can go first, if you want.” The girl was still trying to help, even though she was now clearly afraid. It awakened some beast in Summer’s stomach, who slithered and curled up again uncomfortably. She didn’t want the girl to be afraid. But she did. But she didn’t! 

She just wanted Winter. 

“ _ Stand down. _ ” a voice called in Russian. Shuri and Summer both turned towards the house to see a man standing there. He was in unusual clothes and was missing his metal arm, but Summer would have known him anywhere. His voice did not carry the sharp edge that it usually did, but she followed the order anyway.

“ _ Ni - li - _ ” she grunted in frustration, and instead of trying to talk again simply formed two fists. Shuri’s eyes widened, but Summer didn’t move them except to put one in front of the other at her waist, her eyebrows raised just slightly.  _ Trust? _

“Yes.” Winter called back. Summer put her hands down, flexing the fingers to loosen the joints. She looked to Shuri again, who was still afraid but also still standing her ground. Summer nodded, then ducked her head slightly, trying to show a little bit of submission. Her heart slammed against her sternum. Winter was here - wherever ‘here’ was - and he was telling her to trust the girl in front of her. She could do that. Maybe.

Shuri led her down the hill, this time putting a few steps between them and glancing over her shoulder every so often, as if she were afraid that Summer was going to jump her. To be fair, it wasn’t an unlikely notion, though Summer’s stomach rolled again at the realization. Winter stood stock still the entire time, not even moving when they arrived in front of him. The way he looked at her tickled something in the back of her mind, but the memory remained elusive. The sensation, however, was familiar, as was the warmth at the back of her neck. The sun? Or something internal?

“I’ll take it from here, Princess.” he said in English. His voice was soft, lilting ever so slightly. It was not the flat cadence she was used to. Shuri forgot her fear in favor of science then.

“But we have tests to run, I have to make sure that her vitals and proteins are at proper levels to ensure healing!” she said, honestly looking like she wanted to stamp her foot in indignation. The corner of Winter’s mouth raised just slightly, and his eyes actually expressed amusement. 

“She’s not where I was, Princess. She needs more time.” he explained. Summer felt like she was seeing two versions of him superimposed on each other, and emotions she hadn’t felt in - in - how long had it been? - were threatening to crack her chest open. She wanted to hug him, and hit him, and kiss him, and throw him all at once. Shuri crossed her arms over her chest, obviously annoyed but trying to convince herself to heed his advice.

“You bring her the moment she’s okay with it.” she ordered, and Winter - Winter! - bowed his head in a nod.

“Thank you, Princess.” he said. Wait, Princess? She’d missed that the first time around. He said it with a side of reverence, and she realized that  _ princess _ was not, in fact, a nickname, but a title. Was she their new commanding officer?

She’d been thinking about killing a Princess.

Well, it wasn’t the first time.

“When you’re feeling better, please come see me.” the Princess said, turning towards her. Summer snapped to attention under her gaze, just in case she  _ was _ their new commanding officer and just didn’t think to tell her. Again, wouldn’t be the first commanding officer she thought about killing, but she hoped it was the last time. She nodded her head, not trusting her mouth to say ‘yes, ma’am’. Shuri made a noise in the back of her throat that said she wasn’t entirely happy with the situation, but she uncrossed her arms and tapped a bead on her bracelet. Behind them, Summer heard the sound of tires on the grass - an  _ automobile  _ \- and turned to see a black SUV driving itself towards them. “Very well. But I expect daily communications via the comms.”

“Yes, Princess.” Winter said.

“And you must contact me if you have  _ any _ issues.” she added.

“Yes, Princess.” Winter said again. The Princess looked like she wanted to question him, and Summer how someone so small had the audacity to question  _ Winter _ . She had so many questions, and she literally could not ask any of them. 

“Fine. I don’t like it, but fine.” she said. She turned to Summer, her gaze softening as she smiled at her. “I’m glad you’re awake, Miss Peters.”

Summer, completely confused by every aspect of what was going on, just found herself nodding and watching with careful eyes as Shuri got into the waiting automobile. She pressed a few buttons on the screen in the middle, and then it started driving itself away. 

“We have a lot to debrief.” Winter’s voice startled her, making her shoulders stiffen in anticipation. But he still had yet to move, standing the same spot as if he’d sprouted roots. “Come inside, I’m sure you’re hungry.” 

His voice was steady, not harsh like she remembered. Or did she remember him speaking gently? Again, she could picture both of them. The pain still laced her skull, but it wasn’t as severe now; it was a dull ache, as opposed to a blinding stab. He did not wait for her the way Shuri had, instead just going back into the house. Hydra had told her she couldn’t trust him. 

But he was here, and Hydra was not.

She went into the house.

She could feel the wood of the porch shifting as she stepped onto it, and was able to move just right so that it didn’t creak. Winter did not seem to mind making noise; he was inside the house with the door still wide open, the sounds of his boots spilling out. She paused in the open door, taking in the surroundings: it was a simple house, with simple furnishings, but it was open and clean, and she had to admit it looked comfortable. Winter moved through the kitchen with the purpose of someone who knew exactly where everything was. How long had he been here?

“Perimeter is clear. And I’ve cleared the house.” he said, his back still to her. She saw the flash of a knife as he cut something, but he did not move in a threatening way. She suddenly felt like she was living in someone else’s body, or perhaps in a memory long deleted by the men in labcoats. 

“Ere...we?” she asked, glad that she could almost form a coherent statement now.

“We’re in Wakanda. A country in Africa.” he explained. When he faced her again, he had a plate in his hand. Two thick slices of dark bread were stuffed with sliced meat and vegetables, the names of which danced just on the edge of her mind. He slid the plate across the island, gesturing for her to come inside and eat it. He watched as she slowly moved through the space, knowing that he’d probably looked like a newly freed wild animal at some point too. She finally came to a stop at the edge of the island, her eyes landing on the sandwich. While she was still deciding about it, Winter got another plate from the counter, putting it on the island in front of himself and holding her gaze as he took a large bite of it. Not poison. She reached for hers; the bread was soft and warm, full of seeds and oats. She took a careful bite, the flavors of the vegetables and meat (chicken, she thought) exploding. It was good. Was food always this good?

“Arm.” she said instead, looking to where his shoulder was covered by some sort of wrap. He glanced down to it, as if he’d forgotten about it, and shrugged.

“Lost it. About time.” he said, completely unbothered. Summer knew, in her head, that his strategic mind and marksmanship were his greatest strengths, but the exponentially stronger metal arm had been a good addition as well. The food suddenly turned to stone in her stomach, and she set the sandwich back down.

“Me?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. Winter’s eyebrows pinched for just a moment, and then his face softened.

“No, not you.” he said, shaking his head. He put his own food down, resting his hand on the counter. He looked down at the surface, tapping his thumb slightly as he thought.  _ Spit it out! _ Summer wanted to say, but she couldn’t spit it out herself. And so she was forced to wait until Winter looked up at her again. “I owe you an apology.”

“No.” she said. She was certain about very few things right now, but her trust in him was probably encoded in her DNA by now, even though Hydra tried time and again to rewrite it.

“Yes.” he said, and she felt some sort of fire rise behind her sternum. “I shouldn’t have left you.”

Flashes came to her of the helicopter, of forcing his hand. Why had she pushed him off? “Puh...omise.” she said, so close to forming the word. Her brain was healing, but she needed it to heal  _ faster _ . 

“Fuck that promise. I should have gone after you.” he said, his eyes burning into hers. She slammed her fist into the island, making it crack dangerously.

“Omise!” she said. She did not blame him for anything, especially now, with fresh memories of the new tortures Hydra had concocted during their year abroad, and the ones that they tested with her. “Puh-puh-omise!” she said again, just in case it wasn’t clear. The memory tore open then, of that kitchen in London where she said not to come after her. She’d meant it then, and she meant it now. 

“Look at what they did to you!” he exclaimed, his calm facade breaking. The island cracked on the other side, where he was gripping the edge so hard his knuckles were white. 

“Fuh-fuh-” she was too agitated, the words were getting stuck again. Instead she opened her hand, touching her thumb to her chest emphatically.  _ Fine _ .

“You are very clearly not ‘fine’.” he said. He had some of his control back, but not all of it. Summer signed it again, and again for good measure. “You can’t even fucking talk!”

“Yet.” she said, hoping it didn’t show on her face how excited she was to say it. She’d celebrate that victory later. She gestured to the area around them, steeling herself to speak again. She mouthed the word a few times before finally trying it. “Run?”

“What?” he asked, taken aback by the question. She thought it made perfect sense, but then again, she did currently have severe brain damage.

“Run.” she said again. Wasn’t that what they were doing, before she got caught? Before they put the collar on her? She couldn’t remember where they were running to, just that it was important that they run. 

“No. No, we’re done running.” he said. Now it was her turn to be surprised. As if he could feel her emotions, he went on to explain. “Wakanda is protected. The border is heavily guarded, and arrivals are heavily vetted. We’re safe here. We don’t have to run or fight anymore.”

She turned her head slightly, looking at him out of the corner of her eyes. She slowly spelled the word with her hand:  _ p-r-i-c-e? _

“There is none. We’ve paid it.” he said. She couldn’t tell if he meant they’d paid with their years stuck with Hydra, or if he had paid their passage alone while she was asleep. Either way, she felt some sort of emotion, one that made her wary - hope. 

“Free?” she asked, and she could hear the waver in her voice. Winter nodded. 

“We’re free.” he said, letting out a huff of a laugh and giving her a lazy grin, one that reminded her of Italian sunshine. He pushed his sandwich away and stepped towards her, and unconsciously she moved to a ready position, still half-worried that this was all a ruse to capture them again. Whatever joy he’d built up fell immediately, but instead of looking wary or aggressive, he just looked sad. “Eat.” he said, leaving the kitchen. She tracked his progress through the house, looking at the walls as if she could see through him. She still felt a tickle between her shoulder blades, as if a predator were staring at her, but when she glanced over her shoulder she just saw a window to the open grassland surrounding the house. 

Winter came back holding journals, their pages slightly warped and their spines straining from all the information packed into them. He almost went to stand beside her, but something in her posture gave him pause, and instead he went to the opposite side of the island again and slid the first journal across to her. Her fingers shook slightly as she opened it, finding a pamphlet from a museum in the first few pages. She opened it up to see a picture of a man in a red, white, and blue uniform; she recognized him, but she couldn’t find his name. The next page, though, stopped her in her tracks. Winter’s face stared back at her, as well as what she knew was her own.

“Inte.” she said, her brain still only willing to make the middle of the word. He shook his head.

“I’m not Winter. Not anymore.” he said, adding the second statement after her look of alarm. “I’m Bucky. And you don’t have to be Summer anymore.”

But if she wasn’t Summer, then who would she be? She wasn’t Lucille Doc Peters like the pamphlet said. She touched her picture; it was from the day they got back to London, though she couldn’t remember anything else from the experience. Would she ever look like this again?

“Who?” she asked. Who am I? Who should I be? That was what she wanted to ask, but this time her nerves instead of her expressive aphasia got the best of her. Winter - Bucky - gestured to the journal in her hands. 

“I wrote down everything we remembered, before the day at the border.” he said. “You’ll remember who you are, just like I did.”

There was a point in their lives where they were on this journey together, trying to reclaim the parts of themselves long dormant. It had been a bit of a competition at the time. Now, WinterBucky was miles ahead of her. But he wasn’t trying to leave her in the dust. 

He was waiting for her.

She tore into the journal, ignoring the sandwich and the man in front of her. She needed to catch up. Now. 


	47. Half - July 4, 1944

**Chapter 47: Half**

**July 4, 1944**

In a shocking turn of events, they didn’t celebrate July 4th in England, and were rather offended that the Americans in the SSR wanted the day off. It was the middle of a war, they said. American independence didn’t really matter to them, they said. 

But it was also Steve’s birthday, and he was the Captain, so he was at least able to swindle them the afternoon.

“Where to, boss?” Dugan asked as they strolled out of the SSR building for lunch, feeling lighter than air since they didn’t have to go back after they ate. Sure, they loved their jobs hunting down and shutting the door on rogue Nazi scientists, but no matter how much one loved a job, it was still work.

“I’m not the boss.” Steve laughed, stretching his arms over his head. 

“Yea, not until tomorrow at oh-six-hundred.” Bucky added, taking the opportunity to poke Steve in the ribs. For such a big man, he was still so ticklish, and jumped away from him with a well-timed swat to Bucky’s hand.

“Bullshit. We all know Pe - Agent Carter’s in charge.” Steve always thought he was so slick, but he stumbled over her name literally every time he had to say it. The boys howled at that, both agreeing and making fun of him. 

“The question still stands, Ace.” Morita pointed out. “Where’s the first stop?” 

“Home,” Steve said, making them all groan.

“You’re such an old man-”

“What, do you need a nap?”

“Thought that serum was supposed to keep you from being a baby-”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, I gotta stop at the apartment to drop this off...and get out of this uniform.” Steve interrupted, waving the envelope with his stipend. “The SSR has a reputation to uphold.”

Realization dawned like an autumn sun: freezing at first, and then with sudden, joyous warmth. “Oh, it’s gonna be  _ that _ kind of birthday!” Bucky said, slapping him on the back. Upholding reputations wasn’t much fun, which was why they had to abandon their uniforms for civvies.

“Why drop the check off? It’s for spending, isn’t it?” Jones offered, but Steve and Bucky both shook their heads. They remembered what it was like, not knowing if they would have to pick between being warm that day or being fed. Besides, Bucky had been counting down the checks until this very one. 

He didn’t have enough money to pay off the whole ring, but he at least had the first half, and this check would give him enough money to survive to the next one. He was hoping, with a bit of negotiation and a lot of promises, that half would be good enough for now and he could pay the rest on credit. The men split up at the crossroads, though their conversation carried on as far as their voices allowed it. Steve looked more relaxed as they walked, and he was glad that both of them would have some time to not think about work.

“How’re things with Doc?” Steve asked, his voice dipping with the question. Bucky blushed, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking down at the sidewalk.

“Good. Really good.” he said, laughing nervously. “Too good to be true, if I’m honest.”

“Nah, no such thing.” Steve said, bumping him with his shoulder. “Not like you to be superstitious.”

“She’s rubbing off on me.” he muttered. Steve got a glint in his eye and Bucky was quick to shut him down. “Don’t you even start, punk.”

“I said nothing.” 

“Keep it that way.” Bucky replied, sending him a friendly glare. 

“When are you gonna make it official?” Steve asked instead, deciding to listen for once, even if it was his birthday and he should be allowed to pester his best friend as much as he wanted. Bucky could see the jewelry shop up ahead; he’d gotten used to looking for it, that way the sparkles didn’t catch him by surprise. Every day when he walked back to his flat, he would spare a glance at the window, making sure his ring was still there. He’d hoped Lu hadn’t noticed, though he had the sneaking suspicion that she did. She was a smart cookie at baseline, and her observational skills were even sharper than they used to be.

“Soon as I can, man. Soon as I can.” he said, not bothering to hide as he glanced in the window. His eyes automatically went to the spot: second row from the back, third box from the left. 

But his ring wasn’t there.

Some other ring sat in its place, pretending that was its home, mocking him and sending him on the worst game of hide and seek he’d ever played. He stopped walking and must have made some type of noise, because Steve stopped too and asked, “ _ what is it _ ?” 

“Fuck.” Bucky said in response, his eyes flying over all the rows as he looked for his ring. Maybe it was just moved, just in a different place. But he looked over the group three times and didn’t find it. “Fuck!”

“It’s gonna be okay-” Steve put a hand on his shoulder, and Bucky knew he shouldn’t feel so panicked, but for some reason this was the thing that was knocking him for a loop. Did he get upset when a soldier threw a grenade at him the other day? No, he knew that grenades averaged six seconds before blowing, so he picked it up and threw it back. But losing his ring -  _ Lu’s _ ring - was something that he didn’t know how to handle.

“I...I didn’t have a backup plan.” he said, shaking his head. 

“We’ll find a different one.” Steve said, and later Bucky would purchase him many drinks to thank him for being so supportive on the day they were supposed to be celebrating him. At that moment though, he was stuck in his own head.

“There isn’t another one.” Bucky said, running a hand through his hair. “Shit, I finally got halfway there, I was gonna go talk to him today-”

“Soldier?” the clipped British accent cut through Bucky’s stream of consciousness, stopping him in his tracks. Mr. Hoffman stood at the door, leaning against the frame and lightly rolling his sleeves up to combat the July heat.

“Yes, sir?” Bucky asked, standing up a little straighter, if not at full attention.

“Stress is rather unbecoming, and shortens the lifespan.” he said, and Steve let out a snort of laughter. Bucky elbowed him harshly, then was even more pissed when his elbow ached afterwards. Were his bones made of cement now? Hot damn.

“Sorry, sir.” Bucky said, realizing that the man probably did not enjoy seeing a meltdown in front of his store. Not good for the heart - or for business. “I’ll, uh, be on my way.”

“Wait just a moment, lad.” the man said. “I couldn’t help but overhear something about an impending conversation, which I assume was with me.”

Bucky couldn’t help but glance to the window again, where the wrong ring still sat in the right spot. “Right, um, well I’m afraid that conversation will have to wait a little while longer.” He could feel his heart rate slowing; Steve was right, he would just have to take some time, save up a little more, and pick a different ring. Rings weren’t like soulmates, a person could have more than one. Or maybe he could ask the jeweler to remake it?

“Americans. Always so dramatic.” Mr. Hoffman said, shaking his head. “Why don’t you take a walk, collect yourself, and come chat with me, hm?”

“Sir, I-”

“I’ll put the kettle on.” he said, tipping his head towards him before going back into his shop. Bucky stood there dumbfounded, wondering what on earth the man wanted to talk about, or if he meant for him to gather his funds and go from there. Either way, he needed to go back to his flat.

“Steve, I’ll be a little late for your lunch.” Bucky said. He knew he was being a shitty friend, but he wasn’t socially adept enough to reschedule this very sudden appointment with Mr. Hoffman. Steve, to his credit, just smiled like a damn fool.

“Fuckin’ better be.” he said, easily keeping up with Bucky’s long strides down the sidewalk. That still felt weird on all its own. “Sure you don’t need me to go with you? Make sure your head stays attached to your shoulders?”

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” he said dryly, trying to remember that he fully deserved every bit of ridicule he was about to receive.

“I can hold your hand.”

“I’m good.”

“What if you faint from the  _ stress _ ?”

“I hate you and I’m not coming to your birthday party.” Bucky said, cutting across the street to his building.

“See you later!” Steve called, giving him an exaggerated wave and laughing loudly at his own joke. How Bucky ended up with a punk best friend like that he’d never understand, but he supposed he could do worse. He took the stairs two at a time to his flat, the lock groaning in strain as he used a little too much strength with the key. He didn’t even bother closing the door all the way, rapidly changing from his uniform to his civilian clothes. Perhaps someone walking up the stairs would get an eyeful, but that wasn’t exactly his problem, now was it? He stuck his check in his drawer, knowing he needed to cash it later, then grabbed the little packet hiding deep in the back of the nightstand. 

He could feel his pulse in his ears as he went back down the street, the sweat threatening to bead up having nothing to do with the summer temperatures. After a quick cursory glance across the street, he ducked into the jeweler’s, grateful for the box fan set up at the back. 

“Quick walk, soldier.” Mr. Hoffman said, coming out from the back. Bucky nodded, holding a hand out.

“Barnes, sir. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.” He’d gotten enough ridicule from Falsworth for the name Bucky, he didn’t need the jeweler judging him too. The man took his hand, his grip strong despite his apparent age.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sergeant Barnes. I am Archibald Hoffman.” he said. The man was as warm as a Brit could be, and Bucky found himself smirking.

“Anyone ever call you Archie?” he asked, following Mr. Hoffman to the back room. True to his word, a tea kettle sat on a one-burner camping stove, steam just starting to sneak out of its spout. 

“Not even once.” Mr. Hoffman said, using a tone that suggested that zero times was still too many. If Bucky wasn’t about to try and barter with him, he might push a little bit, but he was good enough to know when to hold back. “Have you ever gone by the name Jimmy?”

“Not even once.” Bucky parrotted, and considered the brief smirk the man gave him as a personal victory. 

“Have a seat, Jimmy.” Mr. Hoffman deadpanned, gesturing to the chair in front of his grand wooden desk.

“Much obliged, Archie.” Bucky responded, settling into the small but comfortable seat. Mr. Hoffman kept his back to him, taking the kettle off the stove just before it started screaming.

“How do you take your tea?” he asked, pouring it into the waiting cups.

“Just black, thank you.” Bucky replied, not knowing if that was the proper way to describe the tea and going based off his coffee knowledge. This made Archie laugh and shake his head, finishing filling the cups before he brought them to the desk.

“Very well. I confess, I need a little milk to soften it.” he said, taking a cup from his ice chest and adding just enough to turn the tea caramel colored. “I can’t understand the obsession with coffee. It’s just so harsh.”

“It gets the job done.” Bucky said with a shrug, taking a sip of the tea and deciding that yea, coffee probably was pretty harsh if this was what he was used to.

“I wish I had biscuits to offer you, but alas.” Archie waved a hand at the window, gesturing to the entire war in general. Bucky nodded, looking down at his tea for a moment before catching the older man’s eye.

“I hate to be abrupt, Mr. Hoffman,” he started, earning a scoff from the man.

“But you’ll do it anyway, I suppose.” he replied, looking over the rim of his glasses. Bucky paused for a moment, trying to decide if the man was kidding or not and deciding that he was going to hope for the best.

“I’m just...confused, as to why you asked me to come in today.” he explained, taking another sip of tea. It could really use some sugar, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud. Archie sighed, putting his cup and saucer onto the desk in front of him. 

“Because almost every day for the past six months, I have seen you pause at my shop and take a glance at the window.” he started. “When we first met on New Year’s Day, you said you had the girl, but not the money. Jewelry isn’t cheap, especially in wartime, so I figured we would see victory before I saw you again. But you like to keep your goals right in front of you, don’t you?”

“I suppose so.” Bucky said, wondering where the guy was going with this. Being noticed made him feel uneasy, though he had to admit that if he sat inside a shop all day and saw the same guy stop by all the time, he’d take notice too. And he’d probably say something sooner than six months in.

“Have you read the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Jimmy?” Archie asked, perking an eyebrow and taking a sip of tea. 

“I’ve heard the name, but I haven’t read anything of his. I’m sorry.” he said, confused by this sharp left turn in the conversation. He assumed Archie was going to bring it all together, he just didn’t know if he’d be able to make it to Steve’s birthday by the time he did. 

“He wrote of the detective Sherlock Holmes. Detective Holmes used deductive reasoning and astute observation in order to solve crimes that others could not. He also probably used a fair bit of cocaine, but that’s neither here nor there.” the man explained. Bucky was starting to wonder if this was a business meeting, or simply a social call.

“I’m not sure I follow, Archie.” he said. The tea was starting to cool off, and it was even worse tasting then. Nine months they’d been in England, and he still hadn’t developed a taste for the stuff. 

“I started playing a little game.” Archie said. “I knew the general direction that you were looking, the general area of the display. And every few days, I would move one ring in the display case and see how your view changed. That’s how I developed my hypothesis.”

“And how long did it take you to figure out this ‘hypothesis’?” Bucky asked, wondering just how much of a creature of habit he was.

“Oh, about three weeks.” he said, which was much worse than Bucky thought it would be. “I’m sure you make an excellent soldier, Sergeant Barnes, but I’m afraid you wear your mind on your face when you think no one is looking.”

“Sounds about right.” he muttered into his tea cup. “So then why wait until now to really test your hypothesis?”

“Let’s just say extenuating circumstances.” Archie said, clearly amused. He opened a drawer to his side, reaching in to pull out a navy blue box. Bucky couldn’t help but lean forward, watching as he pulled the cover from it. There, nestled in the velvet, was the ring he’d admired for the past six months. Silence let the diamond really shine, and for a moment Bucky wondered if he was just dreaming the whole thing up. 

“I only have half.” he finally said, his voice not nearly as strong as he wanted it to be. Archie nodded, pushing the ring towards him. “I can pay the rest off as I go, or pick it up in a few months-”

“It just so happens that I’m offering a special deal.” he said. The mood shifted in the room, though Bucky couldn’t exactly tell to what; all he knew was that it was nothing dangerous. “Soldiers can purchase rings that have been in the case longer than six months for half price.”

“I can’t accept that deal, Archie.” Bucky said, shaking his head even though the man’s words were a dream come true. Times were tough for everyone, and he wouldn’t be the reason that the man didn’t make ends meet this month. Archie cleared his throat and pushed the box closer to him before leaning back and clasping his hands on the desk.

“Ah, but you never know when the right moment is going to sneak up on you. Go on, make sure it’s to your liking. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to tell you a story.” he said. When Bucky didn’t move, he gestured to the ring again. “Go on. You can’t make a purchase this big without assessing it.”

“Yes, sir.” Bucky said, simply because he didn’t know what else to say. He plucked the ring from its bed, the metal feeling cool and solid in his hand.

“I’m old, Jimmy. Too old to enlist in this war. Even too old to enlist in the last one. But I have three grandsons, all of whom valiantly joined the force against fascism.” he started. Bucky turned the ring over in his fingers, pretending to inspect every nook and cranny even though he knew as soon as he saw it that it would be perfect. “Unfortunately, the two oldest gave their lives for the cause.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Bucky said, looking away from the ring and to the jeweler. He nodded.

“Thank you.” he said quietly. “My last grandson, Charles, was declared missing in action a few weeks ago. But, as it turns out, some special force found where he and his compatriots were held, and liberated them. He came back shell shocked, but in one piece, all thanks to an American man with a shield, and another American man with a blue jacket and excellent marksmanship.”

“Sounds familiar.” Bucky admitted, putting the ring back in the case before he did something stupid like drop it. He knew that diamonds were harder than glass, but that didn’t mean he wanted to test its limits. 

“The Americans and their friends brought Charles and what was left of his unit back home, with a brief respite in a secret hospital to make sure there was no irreparable damage.” Archie continued, as if Bucky hadn’t said anything. “The medical unit was run by a woman, can you believe it?”

“I can.” Bucky said, knowing damn well who was running that medical unit, and why she would stick out to a young English soldier. Archie gave him a knowing grin, but went on with his story. 

“Charles was rather fond of this nurse, but he realized very quickly that her heart was obviously taken by another.” he said. Bucky could certainly understand that part too. Archie paused for a moment, gathering himself again. It was the only time a little bit of emotion peeked through during his story. “You brought my grandson back to me, Sergeant Barnes. And your girl made sure he was healthy and whole. If I didn’t have to pay rent, I would give you this ring for free.”

“I don’t deserve that.” Bucky said automatically. It was in his nature to deflect any positive attention, to share the victories with his brothers, or to claim it was all part of the job. But he was all by himself, with no backup.

“You do, son. You do.” He sounded serious now, his dark eyes locking onto him. “War has torn us all apart, whether we see it or not. But now it’s time to start putting things back together. And if I can help by instigating an engagement, well…” he leaned back, gesturing towards Bucky with both hands. “Though I’m too old to enlist, I’d like to do my part.”

“I can’t thank you enough for this.” Bucky said, shaking his head. “Are you sure? Absolutely sure? You’re not pulling my leg?”

“Do I look like I could pull a leg? At my age?” Archie was once again amused by his own jokes. “I am absolutely sure. Take your ring. And take care of your girl.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Mr. Hoffman.” Bucky said, putting the envelope on his desk and reaching out for his hand. He shook it a little more emphatically this time, pulling back a bit when he heard the old man’s wrist pop from the force.

“Thank you, Sergeant Barnes.” he said, standing up with him. He slid the top back onto the box, then pulled a silver ribbon from another desk drawer and expertly tied it around and into a bow. He held the box out, laying it gently on Bucky’s palm when he offered it to him. “I would like to see it on her finger, you know. When you have the time.”

“Of course. Absolutely.” he said. He thanked the man profusely - again - before leaving the shop, once again feeling like he was in a dream. But this was a good dream. 

He ran back to his apartment, putting the ring in the same drawer that held the envelope earlier. He’d have to find a better hiding spot for it, of course, but he could do that tomorrow. He would just have to make sure that they spent the night in Lu’s apartment that night. It wouldn’t be a difficult play, as long as he remembered to do it.

Turns out, he didn’t have to worry about forgetting. Despite the drinks, and the celebrations, and all the shenanigans they got up to for Steve’s birthday, his mind still went back to the little blue box burning a hole in his bedside table. Lu looked particularly radiant when she arrived for supper, her hair freshly curled and a bit of color on her lips. She didn’t need any rouge that night; the summer gave her cheeks a natural glow. Bucky was already partially in his cups by the time she arrived, his affection for her so overwhelming he thought he would choke on it. He pulled her into his lap as she arrived at their table, earning a squeal from her and a round of chastising from the men. But he didn’t care. He nuzzled into her neck, taking in the scent of her shampoo and perfume.

“What’s gotten into you, huh?” she asked once everyone else got distracted.

“Just missed you is all.” he said, holding her tighter. She’d been eating better the past few months, and the harsh angles she’d developed from the month in the bunker were finally softening into gentle curves. He liked her no matter what, but it made his heart sing to know she was feeling  _ healthy _ again. 

“I missed you too.” she said, running her thumb over his arm. “But it’s Steve’s birthday, so you should probably just miss me until later.”

“He can handle it.” Bucky said. He glanced up at said birthday boy, who simply winked and went back to some game Dernier was showing him involving a knife, a hand, a table, and a bunch of prayers. He thought of the ring, and wished he hadn’t taken it back to his flat, wished he’d kept it in his pocket so that he could give it to her now.

But he was a little drunk, and it was technically Steve’s birthday, so he would just have to wait.

“You still wanna be with me forever, right?” he asked. It didn’t count as a proposal without a ring -  _ the _ ring. Lu smiled, and for a moment her face was completely open, no sign of the walls or the guarding that she did when they first met.

“I do. As long as you’ll have me.” she said softly. He was surprised that he heard her quiet voice, but he soaked up the words nonetheless. “You still wanna be with me, right?”

“God, yes.” he said dramatically, making her smile. He loved her smile. God, he loved  _ her _ . “Just checking.”

“Against my better judgement, I’ll always love you.” she joked, nudging his chin softly with her shoulder. 

“And against my better judgement…” he tried to come up with a comeback, but there was none. His better judgement had been pursuing her. “Ah, fuck. You win.”

She laughed then, leaning back into him. He was tempted to kiss her cheek and her neck and everywhere he could find, but he settled for pressing his lips to her covered shoulder, trying not to embarrass her for once. 

“Well, good thing you still like me, cause we’re about to spend a lot of time together.” she said. He furrowed his brows, trying to figure out the meaning to her words. Did she somehow know about the ring?

“What do you mean?” he asked, playing it totally cool. She totally did not suspect a thing. He was totally in the clear.

“The missions are getting further away.” she explained, as if he didn’t already know that. “And Agent Carter and I agree that it’s too dangerous for you all to go alone. If something were to happen, it’d be too late by the time you got back.”

“Wait, no.” he said, shaking his head. Did he want to spend any moment he could with Lu? Yes. Did he want to do that at the expense of putting her in danger? Absofuckinglutely not. 

“Yes.” she said, putting on a brave face. “I’m going with you.”

“I’ll protect you.” he said immediately, stone cold sober. “I won’t let anything happen to you, I’ll die before-”

“It’s okay, Barnes.” she said, and she sounded steady, and sure. “It’s okay.”

He thought of a thousand different things to say, but all of them died in his throat. He couldn’t bear the thought of putting her in danger again, but it was only slightly more painful than the thought of being away from her for weeks or months at a time. He couldn’t tell yet if he had a good or a bad feeling about it, and the whiskey was making things even muddier. All he knew was that he wanted her.

“I love you.” he said, holding her close, holding her like a lifeline. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too.” she whispered, holding him back as best she could. Things were terrible in this war, and they were only getting worse. He wanted to believe that everything would work out, as long as they had each other. 

But hope can be a dangerous thing to have during a war.


	48. 48: Care - July 10, 2016

**Chapter 48: Care**

**July 10, 2016**

Bucky’s eyes snapped open, and though he could tell immediately that the bed next to him was empty, he reached out anyway. When his suspicions were confirmed, he pushed himself up, quickly pulling on the first shirt and trousers that he could find. He didn’t spot Summer - she hadn’t decided on a new name yet - out the nearest window, which meant she wasn’t on the back porch. He moved through the house, but she wasn’t in the bathroom or the kitchen either. He quickly shoved his feet into his work boots, tapping the button on the side that did up the laces. Shuri really was a genius, making all these things to help him when he lacked a limb. 

Summer wasn’t on the front porch either, so he went around to the side yard to see if she was in the garden. She wasn’t there either, or under the eave on the pasture side. She wasn’t hiding in the tree, and she wasn’t on the roof. That just left the barn. He couldn’t help but fall into a jog to get out there, a part of him afraid that she’d taken off in the night. The sun wasn’t up yet, but the world was just starting to turn grey as it began its ascent. He pushed open the creaky door of the barn - he needed to fix that later - and waited a second for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. 

She was in the stall with the goats, her back in the corner and one of the kids asleep on her lap. The others roused awake at his entrance, though they didn’t bother getting up yet. Summer didn’t look up from the journal in her hands, her brows furrowed as she concentrated on committing everything to memory. She was on the blue one, which was the third volume. This was the one detailing their year on the run, where they came back to themselves. He leaned against the post of the stall, tucking his hand into his pocket and waiting for her to finish reading the passage she was on. The goats got up then, expecting him to feed them. Only the baby stayed asleep, his head tucked against Summer’s calf. She finally looked up then, the corner of her mouth twitching in something that would be a smile soon.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, deciding not to tell her that he still panicked when he woke up alone, even if it happened almost every morning and she was always somewhere on the property. She shook her head. 

“It’s so quiet.” she said, folding down the corner of the journal page and setting it aside. “Any little noise wakes me up.”

“That gets better.” he said, though he wasn’t that much better himself. “What did you hear?”

“This one. Wanted to play in the middle of the night.” she said, scratching the baby goat behind the ears. It sighed and shifted, stretching its little legs out before flopping back against her. His hoof scratched her leg, but it healed before it could bleed. 

“He’s all tuckered out now.” Bucky observed. Summer nodded, eyeing the other animals as they came up to him, nipping at his trousers and sleeve, waiting for him to offer them food instead. “I was thinking of going to the market later. Do you want to try going with me?”

“Not particularly. Why goats?” she asked, avoiding his inquiry. It was clearly a question that had been on her mind the past couple weeks, but she was just now asking it. He shrugged, figuring he’d let her evade the market for another day. His time in Romania was the only reason he was able to handle the crowds; he didn’t need to rush her into it.

“I asked Shuri for a way to help.” he said. “The previous owner of the house wasn’t able to care for it anymore, but his garden and goats were still here. So she offered it to me.”

“They’re smelly.” she said, still petting the baby. He let out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head.

“Yea, I know. But it helps, taking care of something.” he said. She narrowed her eyes at him, and for a moment he could see the woman she used to be all those years ago.

“Is that your way of saying that I need to help out more?” she asked. He couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not, but decided to be optimistic about it.

“Absolutely.” he replied, not really kidding in return. He nodded towards the storage area of the barn, where all the tools and food and supplies were meticulously organized. “Get these guys fed and out in their pen. I’ll have breakfast ready by the time you finish.”

He pushed off the post, turning before she could come up with a response. Most of her aphasia was healed, but if she was surprised or flustered in any way, it still took a moment for her mouth to form the words. “But-!” was all she was able to get out before he left, smirking to himself all the way back to the house. He’d given her this time to heal, and to remember. She was still not back to her same baseline as before, and definitely still not at the same level in recovery that he was, but he didn’t mind it. He’d meant what he said, that it helped to take care of something. Or, in her case, some _ one _ . 

She didn’t remember yet what their love felt like. But that was okay. He remembered enough for both of them.

He did as he promised, going back to the house and getting to work on breakfast. With the window open, he could hear her working out in the barn, faint sounds of a bucket and her encouragement for the goats to go out to their little area. He could see the goats out the window, but not her familiar blonde head, and he willed himself not to overreact again. And while it took an obscene amount of time for her to return to the house, he was proud to say that he only glanced out the window forty-two times, which was approximately half of what he wanted to do. 

She was silent on the porch outside, but she had to tap the mud from her boots, giving her position away. When she came into the house, she was dirty, and a little sweaty, and definitely smelled like goats, but his heart still swelled at the sight of her. After so long apart, after ages of uncertainty, seeing her here still took his breath away. One day the other shoe would drop, of course. But perhaps, for a heartbeat, they could be happy.

“You smell.” he stated, cutting the frittata in half and sliding hers onto a plate. She sat at the island, digging in without waiting for it to cool off. He poured her a cup of coffee as well, sliding it across before getting his own food. 

“Cleaned out the stall too. It was a mess.” she said, her mouth full. She took a few more bites and actually swallowed before saying, “What do you feed the dog?”

“What?” he asked, pausing his own breakfast. 

“The dog? I couldn’t find any dog food in there. Can’t eat goat food. And he looks ill, so I gave him fluids until I could speak to you.” she explained, as if this were a normal occurrence.

“We don’t have a dog.” Bucky said, putting his fork down despite still feeling hungry. 

“We do now.” Summer didn’t seem bothered by this fact, though it definitely was a surprise to him. She paused, looking off as her mind worked for a moment. “I suppose protein would be best for him.”

“Wait, where did you find this dog?” he asked, still trying to figure out exactly what was going on. He hadn’t had any hallucinations in ages, certainly not after Shuri did her science work on his brain. But Summer’s damage had been worse than his, and perhaps this was just something that needed to run its course.

“Behind the shed.” she said, still inhaling her food as if it were going to run away. “Dehydration and malnourishment evident. I thought we were taking care of things now?”

“Again, not our dog.” Bucky reminded her. That was definitely a struggle for her too: her short term memory still wasn’t where it used to be. She blinked at him for a moment, then nodded.

“Right. We do now.” she said, replaying the conversation to show that she remembered it, even if her answer before didn’t quite match his statement now. She ate the last of her breakfast and drank the coffee all in one go despite its temperature, then went to their ice box and grabbed a container of leftover chicken that he was definitely planning to eat for lunch that day. She also found a water container and filled it at the sink, completely ignoring him as he watched her. Today was a good day, a day where he could tell all her hard work was paying off, even if things outside the norm were occurring. She picked up both her items. “Let’s go.” 

“Yes ma’am.” he said, taking his last few bites and (unfortunately) ignoring the coffee completely. She seemed surprised at the words, her lips falling apart as she tried to come up with something to say. He didn’t give her the opportunity, taking the water from her. “Lead the way.”

Though it was not an order, she reacted like it was one, standing a little taller and walking with a purpose. He followed her out to the shed, wondering the whole way if there was actually going to be a dog there. Sure enough, they rounded the corner to find some sort of hounding mutt laying on his side in the shade, his ribs sticking out and his mouth dry. He’d apparently downed whatever water Summer had left for him too fast, as was evident by the clear vomit nearby.  _ Dehydrated _ and  _ malnourished _ were an understatement, but as he glanced at Summer, he recognized the look in her eye.

Someone needed help. And she was back in her element. 

“I told you to drink slowly.” She spoke to the dog as if it were a human, though to be fair he looked at her with obvious intelligence. His tail thumped weakly against the ground as she walked up to him, but as soon as the dog turned its eyes on Bucky it stopped. He let out a low, weak growl and tried to move, perhaps to protect Summer, but he didn’t have the energy.

“Hey now, I’m the one that feeds your goat friends.” Bucky pointed out. Summer ran a soothing hand over the dog’s side.

“He’s good.” she told him, completely matter-of-fact. The dog looked between the two of them a few more times before taking her word for it, letting his hackles fall. She knelt next to him and opened the container of chicken, which earned her a few more tail wags. She didn’t fear bites or rabies, taking bits of chicken and feeding them to him one at a time. She gestured for Bucky to give him water in intervals, this time not allowing him free reign. They definitely stopped before the dog was ready, but Summer explained to him (the dog) that if he partook too much, then he would have the same outcome as before and disqualify any attempt at nutrition. Bucky thought it excessive to explain all this to a dog, but perhaps after years of explaining things to patients, it was a habit to narrate her care. Without looking, she passed the half-full container back to Bucky, who took it without question. What he did question, though, was when she casually picked the dog up.

“Where are you taking him?” he asked. This was not in the plan. And even now, after all this time, he needed a plan. 

“Back to the house.” she said, making sure the dog was comfortable. He looked up at her as if she hung the moon, reaching up to nuzzle his nose against her chin. She didn’t say anything, but she did have just the slightest bit of fondness in her eyes when she looked at him a moment later. 

“We can’t have a dog in the house.” he said, though he found himself following after her.

“We have goats.”

“But not in the house.” 

“They’re in the barn.”

“Exactly. The barn is not the house.”

“When did you get so contrary?”

“I could ask the same of you.” 

They both stopped, the dog still panting in her arms. When  _ did _ they both get so contrary? When was the last time they had a conversation like this, where they didn’t worry about pecking order or disrespect? When was the last time they felt free to, dare they say,  _ flirt _ ?

“She really did fix us.” Summer said quietly. Her breathing was shallow, as if she was scared, but really she was just excited. 

“As much as she could.” he said, always having to play devil’s advocate. They both had a long way to go, but clearly they were going in the right direction. He gave her a grin, and this time instead of a quiver, he got one in return. “The dog still isn’t staying in the house.”

“Yes he is.” she said, and Bucky knew for  _ sure _ that Shuri had done something to their brains, because while Summer would never question Winter, Lu defied Barnes as often as she could. He smiled at her, despite the fact she was facing away. It was good to have her back. And it was good to  _ be _ back.

He tried to protest once more, but she didn’t listen, marching right into their home and laying the poor dog on the couch under the fan. He relaxed into the cushions way too easily, and Summer made sure he was comfortable before straightening up.

“We need to see if there are others.” she said. “Or if there’s an enemy tracking him.”

“He won’t have enemies.” Bucky pointed out. They didn’t have enemies here; here, they were safe. “But I guarantee if you go far enough, you’ll find more stray dogs.” 

She didn’t seem to like that fact, but understood what he was trying to say nonetheless. “But we can at least save this one.” she said. “Like the boy in London. And the baby. We can save them now.” 

That must have been the part of the journal she was reading this morning. He rolled his lips in for a moment before nodding, saying quietly, “Yes, we can.”

Summer looked restless for a moment, her eyes checking the windows and the door as if she were waiting for something. When nothing came, she carefully sat down on the floor next to the dog and reached up towards Bucky, asking for the container of food and water. “He’ll need more soon.” she said. “Go to the market. I’ll stay here with him. And the goats.”

“You sure?” he asked, hesitant. She’d been learning things about the farm for the past couple weeks, but she still had moments of fear and paranoia. Granted, those were usually in the middle of the night when they were asleep. But were the days only good because he was here with her? Or because she was actually getting better?

“We’ll be here when you get back.” she said. He wondered if she knew that was what he wanted to hear, or if it was just coincidence. Based on the look she gave him, there was nothing coincidental about it.

“I’ll be gone most of the day.” he added, making sure she understood. She gave a curt nod.

“We’ll be fine.” she said. The word brought up memories of her first day in the house, before she could speak, though she insisted she was fine. A pang of guilt went through him, making him want to apologize again. He still lied awake at night, looking at her sleeping face and wondering how he could have ever left her. As if she could read his thoughts, she made a noise low in her throat, chastising him. “We’ll be  _ fine _ , Winter.”

“I’m not Winter anymore.” he reminded her gently. “Bucky.” That’s what Steve called him. That’s what the exhibit in the Smithsonian called him. That was  _ not _ what Summer called him, back in the day. As if remembering that, she made a face.

“I don’t know about that.” she said. “But I guess...I won’t call you Winter.”

“And I won’t call you Summer.” he said. She looked confused at the response, but accepted it a moment later. It was something they’d talked about before - briefly - but he hadn’t brought it up in a while. He’d hoped she would think about it, as having a new name to hold on to definitely helped him in his healing. “I’ll be back.”

“Be safe.” she murmured. She looked up at him, her green eyes softer than they’d been in recent memory. Oh, how he just wanted to lean down and kiss her! But he knew that would be too much, that she wasn’t ready for physical or emotional connection. She was still piecing herself back together, and he would give her all the time she needed. 

“You too.” he said. He glanced at the dog on the couch, who somehow managed to look even more pitiful. “You’re in charge of the perimeter.” he said, pointing at him. He got one single tail wag in response.

“He’s a patient.” Summer pointed out.

“My statement stands.” he said. He turned back, waving over his shoulder as he exited the house, repeating  _ she’ll be fine _ over and over again to stop himself from running back and taking care of her. He needed a trip to the market to get supplies and gossip - both of which were very important and only one of which he had to pay for. Even being the only  _ white wolf _ most of the people of Wakanda had seen, it was still remarkably easy to hide in plain sight and gather information. He was sure Shuri would tell him anything he would ask, but he didn’t want to bother the Princess with something like this, and also wanted to see how the people he was around lived. When he’d first moved to the house, there was a lot of talk about the cousin, and the shield, and the new King. It was easy to mark people, to take note of who was happy with T’Challa’s return and who was hesitant about his upcoming policies. If T’Challa needed assistance of a different kind, one that only a formerly brainwashed assassin could provide, Bucky already had a running list. 

Fortunately, today’s gossip was lighthearted, having to do with a celebration for school aged children and for their upcoming education. The kids themselves traveled in droves, ducking between booths to find jewelry and clothing and accessories. Bucky moved between them with ease, most of them not even noticing his presence as he went to the tables that held the best produce, exchanging what currency he had for it. 

On one corner sat a jewelry shop. He’d passed it ten times before, and noticed it each time, but today it made him stop. Instead of necklaces and brooches and pins used to keep scarves in place, today there were rows and rows of rings. Based on the way the girls crowded around, it had to be something to do with the upcoming celebration. Perhaps they were ceremonial. Or perhaps they were just new, and pretty, and they wanted to see them. Either way, he didn’t stop to ask questions. He’d bought Summer a ring at one point, and maybe would buy another one for her someday. But not today. Today, the sun was already starting its descent, and he needed to get back home.

Despite knowing that Summer was a grown woman with decades worth of skill and expertise, he was still relieved to see the house standing in one piece when he returned. The goats were in their afternoon spot, the garden was weeded and watered, and the house was completely empty. Bucky, for the hundredth time that day, told himself not to freak out, and calmly put the groceries away before casually checking the back porch. Luckily, Summer was there, their (supposed) new dog laying beside her with his head on her thigh. Bucky slid through the door and went to sit on her other side, though he made sure to maintain enough distance between them so she wouldn’t feel crowded.

“Anything amiss at the market?” she asked. He shook his head, holding out a bright pink apple for her to snack on. She smiled, inspecting it for a few moments before sinking her teeth into it. 

“Everything was as it should be.” he said. She accepted this answer readily, taking another bite of the apple before handing it over to him. Without thinking, he plucked it from her fingers and took a bite of it himself, realizing a moment later that this was the first time she’d shared food with him since they came here. 

“I’ve been thinking. About what you said.” she started, taking the apple back from him. She bit a piece off, but instead of eating it herself, gave it to the dog on her lap, who apparently enjoyed apples very much. He was still too skinny, but at least he looked a little less parched. “I wouldn’t even know what to call myself. You say I’m not Summer anymore...but I’m not Lu either. Or Doc. Or whatever.”

“Then go with something different.” he said. “Lucy is always an option.”

She gave him an unamused look. “Have you ever heard of an asset named Lucy?” she asked.

“Once or twice.” he replied. “But you’re not an asset anymore. Neither one of us are.”

She paused at that, looking out over their little plot of land. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was real, and it was theirs. “Luce then, maybe.” she said quietly. She was trying to be casual, but he could tell she’d been sitting on it for a while. She may have been thinking of it before today, even if she said differently.

“Luce. Like Spanish for light.” he said, remembering the word  _ luz _ . She furrowed her brows, looking down at her hands.

“I’m not a light.” she said, disappointment just barely touching her words. He reached out his hand slowly, and when she didn’t glare at him or move away, laid it gently on the knee that wasn’t occupied by a dog. She tensed just slightly, but relaxed after a breath.

“You’re my light.” he said. The line was horribly cheesy, he knew it. It was cheesy in 1945, and it was cheesy now, and it would be cheesy in a hundred more years when they died. But just cause it was cheesy didn’t mean it wasn’t also true. She smiled, her eyes glittering in the sunset, and he knew in his heart of hearts that she desperately wanted to make fun of him in that moment, and he was glad that she wasn’t quite caught up enough to do so. Instead, she put her hand on his, and for once, her fingertips weren’t freezing.

“You’re mine too.” she whispered, holding his gaze. Any other lifetime, he might have kissed her. But in that moment, he was just happy to be holding her hand. He sighed, slyly shifting his hand so that their fingers were intertwined and feeling elated when she allowed that too.

“What’s the dog’s name?” he finally asked, knowing that he lost that fight the moment she found him. Luce tilted her head to the side, looking down at him.

“Mario, I think.” she said, which surprised him.

“Mario? Who’s Mario?” he asked. He tried to rifle through his memories, but no Mario was coming to mind. She smiled at him.

“Mario was the man at the villa, the one who was ready to throw you out a window when he caught you in my room.” she said. He remembered that moment perfectly, and the fact that she not only remembered the circumstance, but also the name of the man, made him bust out in laughter.

“Of course you knew his name.” he said, remembering a second too late that he didn’t have another hand with which to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“He was very kind.” she said. They’d not seen a lot of kindness in their life, so it made sense why it would stick out to her. He only regretted not getting to know the man too. She squeezed his hand, pulling his attention back to her. She opened her mouth, looking like she was going to say something, but decided against it. Instead, she just pulled his hand a little closer to her, and looked out towards the sunset.

This life was small. But it was quiet. And that’s exactly what they needed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all! i'm so sorry i missed last week. seasonal depression combined with pandemic depression really hit me hard. luckily i have a couple days off this week, so hopefully we can get back in the groove! thank y'all for your patience :)


	49. Tent - September 12, 1944

**Chapter 49: Tent**

**September 12, 1944**

They were dangerously close to enemy lines, and it was eerily silent.

Lu didn’t know if it was some sort of Nazi day of rest, or if they’d managed to go to the one place where airspace wasn’t sanctioned. The latter seemed more likely; if there was a bunker where they thought there was, then Hydra probably would restrict access in any way possible. Based on the latest intelligence - AKA what they ran into at the last bunker - Hydra was starting to set traps around the bases, anticipating their visits. They didn’t know which ones did or didn’t have any protection around them, which made this last part even trickier.

They stopped halfway down a mountain, setting up camp at the last visible spot that would provide them any sort of cover. The sun was starting to sink towards the horizon, and Steve pulled them to a stop for a night of rest. Tomorrow, when they were fresh and rested and could _see_, they would go down the mountain and attack.

“Falsworth, Dernier, Bucky.” he said, dropping his pack. The others dispersed around him, and Lu just tried to keep up as they went through clearly practiced motions. “Go down and scope out the area. See if anything is out of line.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Dernier said, exaggerating his French accent and giving him an even more exaggerated salute. Steve was not amused.

“Anything for our fearless leader!” Bucky added, sending a grin towards Lu. She tried to act unamused, as if she believed that he needed to show Steve some reverence or respect or something, but her cheek was cramping from trying not to smile.

“Pieces of shit, the lot of you.” Steve said darkly, shaking his head to himself. How he get stuck with these ruffians, he’d never know.

“But we’re _your_ pieces of shit!” Bucky called back. Both of them were surprised he could hear him, but neither of them commented on it. They were too distracted by the gross response.

“Please go do your job.” Steve said, throwing an arm down the mountain. “I’ll help set up camp here. If you’re lucky, we’ll save you some dinner.”

“Sir, yes sir.” Bucky said, though most of his humor was gone. He looked at Lu again, walking over to the growing pile of supplies and adding some to it, pretending that was his main reason for going that direction. The others acted preoccupied, and Lu quietly moved toward him as well.

“Be careful, okay?” she murmured, opening her medical pack and idly shuffling through its contents, “counting” her supplies.

“You know I will. Take care of Steve, make sure he behaves.” Bucky said. He always put on a face of false bravado when they were leaving on a mission, which really didn’t make her feel any better. But she wasn’t about to tell him that; it might mess up his whole routine.

“I will. Take care of yourself.” she reiterated. He nodded, taking a sneaky look around before leaning over and kissing her cheek.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” he said, giving her hand a squeeze for good measure. She tried to give him a smile, but it fell flat. It was bad enough watching him leave for missions when she was back at HQ - it was even worse when she had to literally watch him enter the field. He joined Falsworth and Dernier back at the path, glancing at her one last time before they set off. She held up her hand, her middle and ring finger tucked down while the others stayed out - the sign for _I love you_. He copied it back to her, then jogged away to catch up with the other two.

“You all good here, Doc?” Steve asked, coming up to grab the tent rolls. Lu shook herself out of her anxious spiral, smiling at him and going back to organizing her pack.

“You know, I’m not a doctor. You shouldn’t call me that.” she said, giving him a stern look. He, of course, was not frightened at all. In fact, he looked rather impressed with himself in that moment.

“What should I call you then? Mrs. Barnes?” he offered, sounding entirely too proud of the response. Lu immediately blushed, feeling even warmer in the last of the summer sun.

“No.” she said sharply. “Not yet.” she added, mostly to herself. But of course, Steve was a super science man with super science man hearing, and therefore heard her. Bastard.

“Not _yet_, hm? How presumptuous!” he teased, earning a swift punch to the arm. He only laughed, he didn’t even have the decency to act like it hurt, even a little. Fine, he could handle physical pain? That’s okay, that just meant Lu needed to switch tactics. She dropped her expression, allowing her lower lip to tremble slightly as she gave Steve and honest-to-goodness deer in the headlights look.

“Is he…I mean, did he say something? To you?” she asked, allowing the slightest hitch in her voice. If she leaned into it too much, then he would call her bluff. But if she played it just right…

Steve went through a myriad of emotions, his mouth opening and closing like a fish a few times as he tried to find a response. “No! No, I mean, he didn’t say anything negative. It’s been positive. All positive. I mean after all he…” he stopped, narrowing his eyes and taking a good look at her. She was trying to keep the worried expression - the same one she used to get what she wanted as a child - but it was quickly fading, especially under scrutiny. “You’re fucking with me.”

“I would never.” she said, aghast. She clutched her pearls, reaching back into her mind for the southern accent she’d made herself lose right when the war started. Steve let out a loud sigh, putting his hand over his heart as he tried to calm its racing.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” he said. “You nearly gave me an arrhythmia.”

“Technically, tachycardia _is_ an arrhythmia.” she pointed out, closing her pack and picking up one of the tents. He let out a few more curses, shaking his head and grabbing the rest of them.

“You two deserve each other. Knuckleheads, both of you.” Steve said, sounding like an old bitty as he dragged the tents towards the wall of the mountain, which would protect them from the elements. “You really had me going there for a second.”

“For the record, you _did_ start it.” she pointed out.

“Start what?” Jones asked, taking the tent from Lu and unbuckling it.

“Wasn’t supper, I know that.” Dugan said, bringing around a massive armload of firewood. “I just got back.”

“You don’t know what kind of skills I have.” Lu said. She’d only been with them on one mission so far, and though she knew these men well, she still felt the need to guard herself a little bit.

“Careful, she’ll get ya.” Steve said, unbuckling the other tents. Lu pulled out the rods, helping Jones to get the first one standing. Sometimes they were nervous about making a fire, but tonight they weren’t: they wouldn’t have to keep it long since the nights were still warm, and smoke rose from other areas close by, camouflaging their location. She stayed quiet, but took a moment to look at them each in turn, daring them to start something. Perhaps Bucky wasn’t the only one who flaunted some false bravado during these missions.

“Perimeter’s secure too, in case you were wondering.” Dugan said, now starting to collect rocks and arrange them in a circle for a makeshift fire pit.

“I was wondering. Thank you.” Steve said, genuinely meaning it but adding a touch of attitude, just for fun. Dugan tipped his bowler hat to them before continuing his task, getting a good fire going for them to cook on. After they finished the tent, Lu went to help Steve while Jones set up his radio, putting all his focus into trying to crack the transmissions. They kept quiet for him, setting up the rest of camp in silence and getting supper going, the sun finally falling all the way, turning the world a dusty purple color.

“Doc, no offense,” Dugan said, grimacing as the wind shifted directions. “But I think they might’ve sent something rotten in the ice chest.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this.” Lu said, leaning closer and smelling the soup she was making. Could use some more herbs or seasonings, but that was a luxury even back in London. Not for the first time, she missed being in Italy, where a little shortage of salt didn’t make things bland as a hard boiled egg.

“Uh, Doc, I dunno.” Jones said, his voice muffled by his elbow covering his face. She felt the flush creep up her cheeks and neck; she was supposed to take care of these men, and apparently she couldn’t even make a basic soup. She glanced up at Steve.

“Steve?” she asked, knowing his senses were better, and that he would also give her an honest answer. He leaned to where she was, sniffing the soup.

“That’s fine.” he said, standing up straight. The wind hit him, apparently like a ton of bricks. “Holy shit, that’s not though.”

“See, I told you it wasn’t my cooking.” Lu said, though the joke fell flat as the stench hit her as well. She knew that smell. She stood slowly, covering her nose and mouth with the collar of her shirt as she walked to the edge of the path. In the distance, they could see smoke rising, dark even compared to the twilight sky. The fires that burned were big, illuminating the shacks that surrounded the pyre.

“What is that?” Morita asked, coming to stand next to Lu. Jones and Dugan joined them a moment later, and Steve a second after that.

“You know what that is.” Lu murmured, feeling sick to her stomach, and not because of the smell.

“Is that…” Dugan said.

“It can’t be…” Jones added.

“They’re burning bodies.” Morita said, since Lu was too choked up to answer them. “Sick bodies.”

“It’s probably a camp.” Steve said. “One of the ones where they’re rounding up people.”

Lu shook her head, not believing what she was seeing. “They must not have room in the bunker for them.” she said, making all four men look to her. “They don’t have room for the cages. So they keep them out here, in the elements.”

“Surely…” Steve thought to contradict her, but what she said made too much sense. They were silent, another wave of the stench hitting them.

“We can’t just leave them there, Steve.” she said. “We can’t.”

“We have to take care of the bunker first.” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. She rounded on him, eyes blazing.

“It’ll be too late then.” she said. Her heart was racing, threatening to split open her ribs. She knew she was panicking, knew she was bordering on irrational, but she had to make him see. “As soon as they catch word, they’ll kill them all and burn it to the ground.”

“I don’t think-“

“No, Steve! I _know_ they will!” she said. Her hands were shaking now, as was her voice. She could feel the cold of the cage bars again, smell the death that surrounded her in the bunker. “When you saved us, the moment you broke into the bunker - the men gave the kill order. They were told to kill all the prisoners. I was just lucky because they ran out the door and forgot all about me, though I played dead just in case.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until the wind blew again, cooling her cheeks. The sun was completely down now, and in their discovery, she’d been distracted from Bucky not getting back yet. Luckily, the universe righted that situation for her.

“What in the hell happened?” Bucky said, carefully laying his weapon down before stalking over to them. He glared at the men in turn, impatient for an explanation. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing, Barnes, I’m fine.” she said, wiping her tears away quickly. Bucky put his hands on her arms, bending down to look her in the eye.

“What hap - oh God, is that -?” the smell hit him, and his face paled as he recognized it. She nodded, her hands still trembling. She gripped the hem of his shirt, if only to give her something to do with them.

“Steve said we -“

“You didn’t give Steve a chance to come up with a plan.” Steve interrupted. He was using his Captain voice now. “What did you find?”

“Bunker’s unprotected. Seems they didn’t think we’d come out this far - or, they don’t care.” Bucky said. He wiped Lu’s tears away with his thumbs before pulling her into his chest, not caring about the public display of affection. She took deep, steadying breaths, feeling as what tears remained made his shirt wet. “What’s the smell coming from?”

“A camp. Doc says it’s where they’ll keep the people for their experiments.” Morita said. He placed a hand on Lu’s back as he passed, the touch brief but encouraging. They all remembered what it was like in that bunker, even if it was nearly a year ago, and they weren’t going to forget anytime soon.

“We have to liberate the camp before we blow the bunker then.” Bucky said, Lu nodding and pulling away from him. She was steadier now, her mind back on her task.

“Yes. And we will.” Steve said, looking at Lu when he said that. She gave him a weak smile, turning and going to the pot of soup before he could break her fragile resolve. She hated being the crying woman at camp, and just prayed that none of the men would say anything to Peggy. Her being here was too important, especially if there were coming across these camps. “I hate to split the force in two, but if we want to hit both at the same time and keep them from doing anything stupid…”

“We have to.” Bucky agreed. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking in the direction of the camp. He shouldn’t be able to, but he felt like he could see the vague outlines of the ramshackle buildings. “We can’t leave those people there. Whoever’s left, that is.”

“We won’t.” Steve said. “They won’t have as much security at the camp. We’ll send Dugan, Jones, and Morita that way. You, Me, Falsworth, and Dernier will blow the bunker to hell. And Doc will wait here for the injured.”

“She’s gonna hate that, you know.” Bucky sighed.

“Yea, I know.” Steve said. “Teach her how to use a gun, then she can go.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Bucky said, only half kidding. “She’s not going back in there. We got out, and I’m keeping her out.”

“A joke, Buck. It was a joke.” Steve said pointedly. Bucky let out a long breath, shaking his head.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, I’m the last one that should be surprised at how protective you are.” Steve said with a laugh. “After all, I only survived adolescence because you kept me alive.”

“Even though you tried your damndest to get yourself hurt or maimed or killed-“

“Okay, okay, you made your point.”

“Not to mention forgetting your medications or trying out for the football team like an idiot-“

“I said you made your point.” Steve said, both of them grinning. The world may have gone to shit, but at least they had each other, even if it was a bit of a curse sometimes. “Bet I could make the team now.”

“You fucking better. But you’ve got bigger fish to fry than damn James Winslow.” Bucky said, nudging his shoulder before turning.

“Oh, he was a big, ugly guy wasn’t he?” Steve asked rhetorically, laughing at his own joke as they rejoined the others. Lu was calm again, even giving Bucky a real smile whenever he sat down next to her. He put his arm around her anyway, holding her close and kissing the side of her head before giving her respectable space again. They ate in relative silence, Jones still having one ear in the radio. But the waves were quiet that night; their enemy did not suspect them.

Bucky took first watch, and by default Lu stayed up with him while the rest got settled in their tents. “You gonna be okay tomorrow?” he asked, reaching out and intertwining their fingers. She gripped his hand tightly, as if she could keep him from going into danger.

“No. But I’ll get over it.” she said. She didn’t look at him, instead looking towards the camp. The smell from the funeral pyre was long gone, but she felt like the death lingered around them. “Maybe I should go with them, in case any of the people-“

“Absolutely not.” Bucky said. She turned sharply, intent on arguing, and he put up a hand to try and placate her. “I have no doubt those people need you, but you’ll be no good to them if you’re shot.”

“But maybe-“

“Do you even know how to use a gun yourself?” he asked.

“What does that have to do with it?” she countered, pulling her hand back. “I don’t need to use a gun, I need to use a scalpel and sutures and-“

“A scalpel would be a close range weapon, and sutures wouldn’t be fatal.” Bucky said. “You’re a healer, Doc. And a fucking fantastic one at that. But you’re not a fighter. And that’s okay.”

Even if his words made sense, they still stung a little. Lu hated being told she wasn’t good at something. “Teach me then.”

“What?”

“Teach me how to shoot a gun. Then, next time we’re in this situation I can-“ It was her who held up a hand this time to silence him. “I can be backup at the very most. I know I won’t be a _certified marksman_ or whatever, but I can at least help.”

“You’re already helping.” Bucky said. “Don’t you see? We’re just the muscle, getting people out. But you? You’re the brains. You’re the reason they actually live.”

She paused, blinking a few times and blushing at the compliment. “You’re just saying that to placate me.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.” he said with a grin. He rested his forehead against hers. “It’s enough of a risk throwing me out there. I don’t want to risk you too.”

“I know, I know. You can’t protect yourself if you have to protect me.” she said, a surprising insight. “I just still wish I could be there. Just in case.”

“We’ll set basecamp up in the foothills. Morita, Dugan, and Jones will get those people out safe, and the rest of us will make sure those assholes can never do their work again.” he said. “You just be ready with water and bandages, okay?”

“Yea, yea okay.” she said. He thought the conversation was over, but he thought wrong. “About teaching me to shoot though…”

“Fine, fine. I’ll teach you how to shoot.” he said, and she actually looked excited at the prospect. “But you have to actually listen to what I say. This is one of very few times in our lives where I’ll know more than you.”

“Yes, sir.” she said, putting both hands on his cheeks and giving him a brazen kiss. He held her close to make the kiss last a moment longer.

“Head to bed. I’ll be in there in a couple hours.” he said. They figured if she hid in his tent at night, no one would notice that hers was empty. She just had to sneak out before the rest of the camp woke up. It worked well enough the first mission, and hopefully they could keep the streak going.

“I love you.” she said, kissing him one more time.

“I love you, too.” he replied, tugging her back for really just one more kiss before letting her go. He never thought he’d be the kind of guy to say those three little words so often, but that was before he was in _love_ love, and before he nearly died. Now, things like _pride_ didn’t seem to matter as much.

When Falsworth relieved his watch, Bucky quietly slipped into the tent. Lu was already asleep, the meager blanket still too warm for the night. One long leg stretched out from underneath the cover, and her arms were splayed over her head, trying to release the heat. He smiled at how beautiful and how open she was in that moment, hoping that this meant she felt safe with him. He pulled off his outer layers, agreeing that it was too hot for blankets and bundling one up to use as a pillow, since Lu had commandeered his. She stirred slightly as he joined her on the little pallet but didn’t wake, settling back into her deep sleep once her hand found his. The fire outside was burning a little lower, and he could really only see her outline, but he still couldn’t take his eyes off her as he slowly drifted off as well.

Lu was the first to wake in the morning. Bucky still slept, sprawled out on his stomach and snoring softly into the blanket pillow. She smiled at his prone form, taking one extra second before pulling on her shirt and pants as quietly as she could. She listened at the flap of the tent and peeked outside, but no one was moving and whoever was on watch wasn’t in sight. If she moved quickly, she could make it back to her tent without anyone the wiser. She eased open the flap and slipped out, putting it back in its place before tiptoeing towards her own.

“You know, if we can leave a tent behind, that wouldn’t hurt.” Steve made her jump, her stomach quickly migrating to her throat.

“What the - I mean - it isn’t what -“

“C’mon Doc, I’m not an idiot.” Steve said. He was putting more wood on the fire, building it back up so they could have a warm breakfast. “And neither are any of the other guys.”

“It was just the once. I couldn’t sleep.” she lied, wringing her hands behind her. It was one thing for them to share a bed back in London, where it was behind closed doors. But it was another thing when they were all stuck out here in the wilderness together.

“Bullshit.” Steve called her out. It was then he seemed to notice her nervousness. “It’s not a big deal, you know. We get it.”

“I…I just don’t want anyone to be uncomfortable, or to think I’m…” _some kind of girl_. The kind of girl who shared a bed with a man who wasn’t her husband. The kind of girl who had _sex_ with that man. The kind of girl her mother always warned her about. But for all her discomfort, Steve just laughed.

“Honestly Doc, it’s more uncomfortable when you two try to hide it.” he said. She looked to her feet, trying not to act like she got caught with her hand in the cookie jar and failing miserably. “C’mon. We’re all family here. And we’re grown men. If you and Buck wanna share a tent, then share a tent. It’s no issue to the rest of us.”

“Promise?” Lu couldn’t help but feel like he was harboring hidden judgements. Steve looked away for a second, his face falling to something she couldn’t quite place. But it wasn’t judgement.

“This war is hell, Doc.” he said quietly. “I’ve seen a lot of shit. And done a lot of shit. We all have. And if you have a chance for a little bit of happiness…well, you gotta take it.”

She nodded. She knew exactly how he felt, because that was how she felt too. “Thank you, Steve.”

“Yea yea, don’t mention it.” he said, waving her off. “I’m just sick of lugging an extra tent around for no reason.”

He didn’t let an awkward silence fall, instead asking her to get started on the food while he woke up the rest of his team. The sun wasn’t up yet, but the sky was just starting to change. They needed to get up and get moving fast. The joking and the playing were gone this morning; they only talked about the plan, and they only ate what little they could stomach over their nerves. Jones kept both ears on the radio, but there were very few broadcasts this morning on either side. They packed up camp as everything started turning grey, moving down to the ground. They didn’t have time to help set up a triage, so Lu would have to do that on her own. Peggy instructed her not to worry about abandoning supplies if necessary, and while Lu understood why that was so, she still tried to organize it so she could save as much as possible in the event of an evacuation. With a nod and a signed _I love you_, the men parted, their postures completely different as they pushed through the underbrush. Lu now had no choice but to wait.

She set up her station, then set it up again, and again, each time a little different. When the first ray of sun broke the horizon, she heard the first gunshot, followed by a peppering of more. She recognized the sounds of their own rifles; the others must be the Nazis’. The shots came from the direction of the camp, and she held her breath as the battle raged on. A moment later, she heard more gunshots and a deep _boom_, but this came from the bunker. They were all officially inside, and she was here, useless.

Seconds passed. Then minutes. Then an hour. She wore and honest-to-God trench pacing up and down, waiting for any signs of life as the booms and shots echoed around her. Should she go find them? They didn’t leave a firearm with her, instead giving her some sort of explosive that Howard invented. She didn’t know how to use a gun, but she could sure throw a baseball, which was what the explosive was shaped like.

The first sounds came from the direction of the camp, of boots running and children crying. Whatever else Lu was thinking about was gone as Morita and Dugan crashed into camp, Jones not far behind. Dugan carried a child in his arms, the poor thing so skinny that she could see the points of every bone. He laid the child down on the ground and Lu knelt in the dirt, immediately beginning her exam.

“What happened?” she asked, listening for the child’s heart and breathing. Both were present, though the pulse was weak. Red bloomed on the pant leg, but whatever wound was there was covered by a strip of cloth.

“Ricochet.” Morita said, ushering in two more children and three adults. All were in various states of malnourishment, their eyes gaunt and haunted even as they stood there. The adults - two men and a woman - kept looking around with wild eyes, as if they didn’t trust the freedom. The two children refused to let go of the woman, hiding their dirty, tear-stained faces in her baggy prison uniform.

“Is anyone else injured?” she asked, removing the cloth. The wound underneath was ugly, but not irreparable. She irrigated it, spotting the bullet fragment deep in the muscle of the child’s inner thigh.

“No. Just the standard.” Morita said. The last thing they wanted was to specify the prisoners’ deficits in front of them. They needed to focus on getting them fixed up enough to travel. One of the men began shaking, his face pale and his breaths coming short.

“What’s your name?” Lu asked him. His eyes met hers for a moment, then he looked away again. “Hey. Hey! What’s your name?”

“Joseph.” he gasped out, still unable to focus completely.

“Joseph.” Lu said sharply. “You’ve been through something terrible, and you’re going into shock. I need you to lie down, okay? You’re safe now.”

“No, no I can’t - if I lie down, they’ll get me -“ he started muttering in a language she didn’t understand, and she looked to the other man for help.

“Can you calm him? He needs to elevate his legs and breathe.” she instructed. The other man nodded, though he looked on the verge of going into shock himself. He put his bony hands on Joseph’s slender shoulders, talking to him in that same language. Joseph fought back for a moment, but the man must have said something that mattered, because he stopped fighting. Instead, he dissolved into tears, gripping his fellow prisoner’s arms and slowly descending to the ground. Lu looked to Jones, who was back on the radio.

“Any news about Barnes and the others?” she asked, remembering a second too late that she probably should have asked after _Cap_ and the others. Jones shook his head. Explosions still rang from the distance, not that she could hear them over the blood rushing in her ears. “You and Dugan go help. Morita and I got this.” she said, looking to Morita for confirmation. He nodded, going to get water for them and handing her the forceps and a suture kit. She plucked the bullet easily, then started sewing up the wound. Without hesitation, Dugan and Jones took off towards the bunker - not that they got far.

“_Jones?”_ the radio crackled to life, causing them to skid to a halt. He pulled up the transistor.

“Yea, Cap?” he asked, holding a hand out to signal Dugan to wait.

_“Call Stark, we’re out!” _Steve said. Lu didn’t realize until then that she was holding her breath, and had paused her suturing. She continued her work, knowing that if they were coming in, she needed to be ready for extraction.

“Coming in hot?” Jones asked. The radio crackled for an obscenely long time before coming back to life.

_“No. All clear.” _They heaved a collective sigh of relief, and Lu tied off the last stitch. The child was still unconscious, but now the pulse was stronger, and the breathing more even.

“Any injuries?” Lu asked, and Jones relayed the message.

_“Bumps and bruises. We’re all good.”_ Steve said. He sounded short of breath, as if they were running back - which, more than likely, they were.

“Mama?” the child woke up slowly, brown eyes searching for a familiar face. The woman moved to him, the other two children in tow. Lu could tell based on facial features and general shape that this woman was not the child’s mother, but she was likely the closest thing all three of them had at the moment.

“I’m here, Samuel.” she said, her voice accented. The men had quieted, though they still watched warily. Samuel looked at Lu, his eyes feverish. The woman turned to her. “Will he live?”

“He’ll be okay.” Lu said. “My name is Lucille, this is Jim. We’re here to help, to take you back home.”

“We have no home. Not anymore.” the woman said, shaking her head.

“Well, we’ll take you somewhere safe at least.” Lu said, reaching out to squeeze the woman’s hand. She wondered if her own eyes were as feral when Steve broke them out of that bunker last year, but decided not to dwell on the question. “You’re free now. You’re going to be okay.”

The woman - Lu still hadn’t gotten her name - stopped breathing for a moment, then her face crumpled as the tears came. She spoke in the same language as the men, repeating certain words and grabbing Lu’s hands and then her face, kissing her cheeks and her forehead. Though Lu couldn’t understand her, she understood the sentiment: _thank you, thank you, thank you_.

She bandaged Samuel’s wound and checked the rest of them for injuries, keeping her face stoic as she noticed the needle marks and other signs of experimentation. The men had the worst of it, missing fingernails and teeth. They’d been tortured, either for information or for sport, she couldn’t say. And she wouldn’t ask. One of the children sidled up to her, then held onto her waist for comfort. Lu’s heart nearly broke; these kids were so young, and they’d already been through too much. She made herself use one hand after that, the other protectively around the little girl.

They had the prisoners somewhat settled by the time Steve and Bucky returned, all of them covered in sweat and soot but otherwise okay. A rumble in the distance told them Howard was on his way to take them all back to London. Bucky immediately went to check in with Lu, making the little girl holding onto her shy away and hide behind her legs. He stopped, torn between wanting to hold his girl and not wanting to terrorize this tiny one. Lu kept herself between them but reached out for his hand, pulling him as close as she could without the little girl clawing her leg.

“You were gone way too long.” she murmured. The plane was closer now, and they wouldn’t have long before any conversation would be yelled over the sounds of the engines.

“I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.” he said. He glanced over the prisoners. “Everything okay here?”

“Yea. It’ll take some time for them to recover, but they’ll be okay.” she said, holding the girl a little closer. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to burn down everything for how angry she felt at these terrible people. She’d treated the prisoners before, but it was different seeing them fresh from the cells. Maybe it should have scared her. But instead, it just pissed her off.

As if Bucky could feel her righteous anger, he smiled and ran his hand up her arm to her shoulder. “Soon as we get a couple days off, I’m teaching you how to shoot.” he said. She smiled back, though it didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Thank you.” she said. “And thank you for not giving up on me last year.”

“I think you forget who saved who.” he said. His hand went back to hers, and he pulled it up so he could kiss her knuckles. “You and me, Doc.”

“Against the world.” she agreed. The airplane rumble was now a thunder, and Howard chose the open field next to them as his runway. The little girl hid her face in Lu’s leg, and she bent down to pick her up. She was probably too old of a child to be held like this, but she was so small that Lu could manage it. “Come on, little one. Let’s get you out of here.”

They couldn’t save every life. But they’d at least saved these.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not gonna lie friends, nanowrimo kinda kicked my butt, so i might have to take a break next weekend. i'm hoping to write some lil fun crossovers/AUs on tumblr though, if you wanna check me out there! my username is whindsor.
> 
> please let me know what you think of this chapter!


	50. Regressed - August 12, 2016

**Chapter 50: Regressed** ****

**August 12, 2016**

Luce - not Lu, not Doc, not fucking _Summer_ anymore - always woke first. Usually, she would make sure Bucky (not Barnes, not Winter) was alive, and breathing, and apparently at rest. Then, she would slowly exit the bed, remind Mario to tread as lightly as possible, and exit the house. The house was her constant opponent in this battle, each board and hinge determined to disturb Bucky while she made her escape. She did not wish to escape him, or to leave their safe place. She needed to check the perimeter. But this morning…this morning was different.

It was the first morning that she knew, without a doubt, that she had not had a nightmare. And it was the first time that she woke in the morning, as opposed to with every little sound that reached her ears in the night. The sun wasn’t up, but the way the sky was painted purple instead of black meant that it was on its way. The moon, still bright in the sky, cast a silvery glow through the window, giving her a black and white rendering of the scene.

Bucky said that the dog was not allowed to sleep on the bed. As such, Mario slept at the foot of the bed, and only on Luce’s side. Since she slept curled into the fetal position, there was plenty of room for him. Bucky usually slept on his side, and his face was always towards her. With no left arm to get in the way, it was easy for him to be comfortable in this position, his right hand just within reach of her. Even now, after all that had happened, after all they’d been through, he was still always trying to protect her.

This is normally when she would get up and leave. But this morning, she wanted to stay.

Bucky had barely touched her since they came to Wakanda, though she knew it wasn’t because he found her undesirable. After literally decades of knowing his every thought, she could tell what he was thinking. And even after having a spider implanted in her brain, she still understood him better than anyone. And he understood her. She hated herself for every inch of space she put between them, every time she flinched when he was near. She did not fear him. But her body remembered the scientists, the way they hurt her, the way they tried to trick her into thinking that Bucky was an enemy, that he betrayed her, that he did not care for her.

But some things ran deeper than neurolinguistic programming.

She remembered all their days together, though some memories were still fragmented. She knew the journals he wrote, had memorized them backwards and forwards. She wanted to return to the way things were, back when they were on the run, when they were constantly being hunted, when uncertainty was at its highest but they tasted the sweet honey of freedom. If that first freedom was honey, their current situation was a three tiered honey cake with lavender and buttercream and elegant fruit decorations.

Ah, cake. She missed cake. Perhaps, when Bucky woke up, he could find a way to procure some for them.

Bucky must have heard her thoughts, or perhaps felt her staring at him through the low light, because his body shifted ever so slightly and the muscles of his face tensed, just a little, as he came up from unconsciousness. Luce held her breath, realizing that this would be the first time in over a year that they would wake up together, in the same place. She suddenly felt nervous, felt like she needed to flee, to hide. But why did she need to hide? What could she possibly have inside her that he did not already know, already understand?

His breath hitched, the same way it always did when he first woke up. Then he breathed slow and deep, his ribs creaking as his chest expanded. His mouth went from a relaxed curve to a grim line, his eyebrows dropping in a way that did not say confusion, or anger, but instead a resounding sadness. She could see when he squeezed his eyes further shut, just a little bit, and slowly reached his hand towards her side of the bed. At first, she wanted to recoil, but then another part of her, an overwhelming part of her, suddenly wanted him to touch her so bad she thought she might crawl out of her skin if he didn’t hold her there.

His eyes flew open when his hand met hers, and this time he was the one to pull back sharply. She instantly missed the warmth of his skin, and almost choked on some emotion working its way up her throat, preventing her from saying _please, hold my hand, hold me_. _Please_. Her words failed her, but not due to a chip in her brain or the resulting aphasia; instead, she just couldn’t bring herself to ask for what she wanted. But Bucky knew her, knew her better than anyone had in her entire life, and he inched his hand across the sheet and gently cupped her hand in his. Her fingers curled around his, her stomach flipping as he gently rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. He looked like he wanted to say something, but suddenly the thought of either of them voicing anything felt like it would ruin the moment.

Luce inched a little closer to him, and then a little closer after that. He stayed completely still, eyes dark like the sea in the early morning light. At the foot of the bed, Mario squirmed and sighed passive aggressively, annoyed that she was fidgeting while he was trying to rest. Both of them ignored him. Bucky let her move inch by inch, mile by mile, until she tucked herself into his chest. Even with the heat of the Wakanda summer, it still felt wondrous to have his warmth envelope her, squeezing together the last pieces of her that wanted to fall apart. His arm went around her, and the gesture felt protective instead of restraining. His chest on her face felt secure instead of suffocating. She missed this. She missed _him_.

“Good morning.” he said, his words whispering over the top of her head.

“Good morning.” she whispered in return, telling the secret to the skin over his sternum. He moved again, pulling her impossibly close, intertwining their legs and laying his lips against the top of her head. She could feel his fingers on her back, flexing and relaxing as if he wanted to hold her harder. After a moment of reflection, she realized she was doing the same. She allowed herself to use a little of her strength, holding him tight enough that she could feel his muscles straining, ever so slightly, to take in a breath. He only returned the gesture, crushing her to his chest as if he were holding onto her in a storm. The way his heartbeat was racing under his sternum, maybe he actually was stuck in a storm of his own making. But storms weren’t always a bad thing.

The deep pressure of his embrace calmed the buzzing in her nerves, the steady hold bringing down the ringing that was always in the back of her mind. She hadn’t even noticed it, not really, until it started to quiet. They’d tried to take this from her, take _him_ from her, but she wouldn’t allow it. Not then. Not now. Not ever.

“The chores.” he whispered into her hair, though he didn’t actually move at all.

“Not yet.” she replied. All the panic she had of someone being in her space was gone, replaced instead by panic that he would leave. Any brush of anything before had sent her into sensory overdrive, but this was calming in a way that she could never expect. She’d have done this weeks ago, if only she knew how good it would feel. If only she’d listened to her subconscious.

“Not yet.” he agreed, relaxing further against her. A breath couldn’t fit between them, and that’s exactly the way they wanted it.

The sun was up over the horizon by the time they peeled apart, though Luce thought she’d be happy just fading away right there like that. But time and again they’d proven that they were determined to live, and that was what they were going to do.

She joined him for chores that morning, instead of stalking the perimeter of their land for threats. She helped with breakfast, her heart stuttering at the little touch on her waist when he sidestepped behind her to the other side of the counter, or the brush of his hand over her arm as he reached across for something. Their fingertips barely touched as he handed her a cup of coffee, and she didn’t shy away from the contact. She just gave him a smile and sipped at the drink, finding that he’d mixed in just a touch of sugar - the same way she’d taken it, back in the day. Back when they were just two idiots in love, trying to figure out the world.

A palace attendant called that afternoon. Bucky answered the phone - some fancy, flat device that the crown provided them - and when he spoke, she saw just a glimpse of who he used to be, and it made her feel a little bit more human too. She was perfectly still, remembering calls for missions, instructions given over encrypted lines. Bucky murmured a few affirmations before ending the call, turning to her. But he did not have the concrete look of Winter; instead, there was a glimmer of mirth in his eyes.

“Steve is coming to visit.” he said. Of all the things, Luce didn’t expect that.

“When?” she asked, proud that her voice was not laser sharp, but instead almost like a normal person.

“Tonight.” he said. Luce looked at him for a long moment, then let her eyes trail around their house. It was still plain, barely furnished, with really no signs that they lived there besides the boots by the door and Mario on the couch, snoozing without a care in the world.

“The house is a mess.” she deadpanned, surprising herself and him with the slight twang of an accent she hadn’t used in eighty years.

“Was that a joke?” he said after a moment, his eyebrows inching a little closer to his hairline. She paused, immediately defensive, but not in a way that she learned from Hydra.

“Oh my God.” she murmured, thinking back on the conversation. “I think it was.”

The corner of his mouth barely lifted in a grin. “Be still my heart.”

Luce, now feeling seen and therefore uncomfortable and vulnerable, crossed her arms over her chest. “I still have a few left in me.”

“Never said you didn’t.”

“I’m trying.” she didn’t know why she was suddenly so defensive. Then again, didn’t she used to have this problem, before all this? The littlest bit of openness, and she had to throw up a wall. That’s why it took so long for her to love Bucky in the first place. She wanted to sigh, suddenly feeling like she was regressing.

“You’re succeeding.” he said, his eyes burning under the long locks of his hair, hanging sweaty in front of his face. “You hear me? You’re succeeding.”

She opened her mouth, ready to fight, ready to say _it doesn’t feel like it_, but the words stuck in her throat. Her heart twisted painfully, her brain seeing him, and seeing him how he used to be, and how he used to used to be, and all those versions of herself that matched up with him. She would never be Doc again; he would never be Barnes. But she wanted to take one step back, just one, to the point where she didn’t have to be so guarded.

“I can call Steve.” he said, taking one step closer to her. He moved slowly, calculated. His palm was open, and facing towards her. She resolutely stayed in place, her body trying to decide if she wanted the closeness of the morning or to turn and run. “I can tell him to stay at the palace.” Another step. Her muscles tightened. She made herself reach her hand out. Her throat ached as he touched his fingers to hers, and she found herself shaking her head.

“No. I’m going to manage.” she said. She meant for it to come out determined and steady, just like him, but her voice cracked in the middle. Feelings she couldn’t name kept threatening to spill out, the wave building the more she tried to push it down. How did people deal with these all day? How could they breathe with so much shit in their chests? She couldn’t breathe. She _couldn’t_.

“You’re okay.” Bucky said, pulling her against his chest and leaning into her, his arm holding her tight. The extra weight grounded her, gave her something to focus on besides everything going on between her brain and her heart. “You’re okay.” he murmured again. She was shaking, shaking with the nerves and panic and the tears that finally broke through.

She did not remember the last time she cried.

But now the tears came, fast and unbidden, soaking her cheeks and Bucky’s shirt and everywhere in between. Great, gulping sobs wrecked her from the inside out, and amidst them she realized this whole reaction was because of a _joke_. She didn’t realize how much this last bout with Hydra clung to her, how she’d become conditioned to being alone. And at that moment, it really sank in - she wasn’t alone anymore. She was here with Bucky, they were safe, and no matter what, Hydra couldn’t get them again. The words were gone from their heads, all the trackers in their bodies were removed. They could finally live the lives they talked about when they were young and stupid and thought the Second World War was the worst thing to happen to them. And she could cry again, if she wanted.

“You’re okay.” Bucky said it over and over, a steady mantra. She held onto his voice, letting the words wash over her, intermingling and intertwining with her emotions as she tried to sort them out. Eventually, the tears started to slow, the waves calmed, and soon all she could feel was her heart beating, and his answering out in kind. She shifted back, sore eyes searching for his face. His eyes were ringed in red too, but his voice remained clear. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” she said with a nod. They didn’t ask if they were okay, back in the cages. They asked if they were _alive_. But now, now they could say they were okay. He reached up, his touch feather light as he brushed away the last tears. He even swiped his sleeve over her nose, leaving her face clean. He was close, impossibly and beautifully close. She reached up, putting her hands on his cheeks, the scruff of his beard damp. He could say it was sweat from doing the chores outside. But he would not.

She rested her forehead against his, still holding onto his face. He closed his eyes, leaning into the touch and trying not to admit how much he’d ached for this moment. Both of them were still broken, but their pieces fit together now, in themselves and between them as well. They still had a lot of work to do - on both sides - but damn, if he didn’t still love her as much as his fractured and necrotic heart could.

“I can still call Steve.” he reminded her. They had hours before he would be there, but he knew that sometimes hours weren’t enough. She shook her head slowly, their skin sticking slightly as she did so.

“It’ll be good to see him, I think.” she said. She didn’t quite believe it yet, but she wanted to, and that had to count for something. Her fingers drifted, lightly running over the curve of his lip. They were so close that she touched her own lip as well, just with the opposite side of her finger. They used to kiss. They used to kiss so much. Why did she hesitate now?

“If you want to.” he whispered, the words hanging in the space between them. A choice. He always gave her a choice. She dropped her hand, he barely flexed his, and before she could second guess things in the way she’d been the past three months, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his.

The kiss sparked something in the back of her mind, something that she would never be able to name. It felt normal, familiar, something so concrete that no time or wars could ever change it. She kissed him again, fuller this time, deeper, memories of days and nights flooding her mind like a flip book. They’d been through a lot of bad things, done a lot of bad things. But every time they kissed, it was good.

They kissed like teenagers again. Well, perhaps that was a lie. She recalled kissing a boy in his pickup truck as a teenager, and it was decidedly messier and less satisfying than this. Bucky kissed her like he knew her, knew every part of her. Which, she reminded herself, he did. All the ugly they’d dealt with in life, and they could still find something beautiful. They kissed until their lips were red and swollen, but she did not mind the sensation. She knew, logically, that they’d had sex before, on many occasions. She wasn’t ready for that, but he didn’t push, didn’t even ask. He just kissed her over and over until their bodies decided food was more important than kissing, though she thought that perhaps that was wrong.

She helped Bucky with cooking that night, and it was even easier than that morning to move around each other, to anticipate each other’s needs. They were a well oiled machine, all the parts finally working together again. They fed themselves, and fed Mario, and showered off the day. Bucky opened the closet with all the extra linens, and together they dressed up the spare bedroom that she never dreamed would get used. It was almost like another version of themselves overlapped, showing her that really, her life was her own now.

It was late when they heard the sound of a vehicle, and the crunch of boots on the dry grass as someone heavy limped up to the front door. Mario picked his head up, his ears perked and a low, barely audible growl rumbling in his throat. Luce put her hand on his back and he glanced back at her, wondering if he needed to go into Full Protection Mode or if the person at the door was a friend. She nodded at him, and as if he understood perfectly, he began wagging his tail, turning his attention back to the door. Bucky was polite enough to allow Steve to knock before going to the door, pulling it open. Mario bounded after him, and while Luce stood, she couldn’t quite make her feet follow.

She wanted to say that Steve looked exactly like she remembered, but in reality he looked a little older, which was only compounded by the fact that he was truly and completely beat up. And yet somehow, that seemed more familiar than the fresh faced man in the pamphlet Bucky still had from the Smithsonian.

“Gotta stop meeting like this.” Bucky said as Steve leaned against the doorway, taking the weight off of his leg. He gave him a crooked grin, looking at Bucky with open affection that surprised her.

“You should see the other guy.” he said, clearly struggling to speak. She could hear the crack of a rib, and the vague rubbery sound of the pleural layers rubbing against each other. Inflammation in the space. The shape of the muscles in his leg was wrong, likely due to a cut of some sort. He would need stitches. She was so busy diagnosing him that she missed the part where he looked her way. His eyes, a shade of blue brighter than Bucky’s, bore into her, and she was surprised to see a layer of pain there that reflected her own.

They were not the only victims of the war.

“Hey, Doc.” he said, breathless for a completely different reason. Bucky turned slightly, watching her reaction.

“Luce now.” she said, trying the name out again. It still felt foreign, but it certainly felt more right than Doc, and infinitely better than Summer.

“New name, new you.” he said, the words obviously an allusion to something that she didn’t get. He flicked his attention to Bucky, then back to her, as if asking a question. She didn’t know what that question was.

“We’re both working on being new.” Bucky said. He backed up, opening the door further. Mario, ever the amazing guard dog, wiggled his way up to Steve to say hello. Steve tried to bend down to pet him, immediately regretting the decision, and with obvious pain he stood back up, limping into the house.

“You’re injured.” she said. He waved her off.

“Nah, I’m fine.” he said. He stopped a few feet from her, and she remembered the last time he saw her she was…not herself. “How are you?”

“Been better.” she said, thinking of 1943. “Been worse.” she added, thinking of a few months ago.

“Yea, yea same here.” he said. Whatever internal conflict was going on, he picked a side, coming up and pulling her into a hug. She stiffened, her fists clenching as she fought her reaction to throw him off. She looked over his shoulder at Bucky, who gave her an encouraging smile and mimed for her to breathe. She did as instructed, and found that the knot in her chest loosened. Steve, undeterred by her frigidity, held on in his hug, still not convinced that his friend was alive, and real, and here. Luce rested her hands on his sides, barely touching him. Then, as she got used to the idea, and the pressure from someone that wasn’t Bucky, she slid her hands around until her arms enveloped him. She did not hold as tight as he did, afraid to further injure his rib. Another piece of her fell into place, and she was suddenly very, very glad that Steve was here. She always knew that it was her and Bucky, but now she had concrete confirmation that the world existed outside of the two of them. And that people there cared about them.

“You’re injured.” she said again, the only thing she was brave enough to voice. Steve choked out a laugh, pulling away from her and holding her at arm’s length, giving her a once over.

“God damn, it’s really you.” he said. He shook his head, then regretted that too. “Maybe I’m a little hurt. But that’s why I came, so you could patch me up. For old time’s sake.”

“Patch…” her brows pinched. Yes, she used to patch the boys up all the time. _Her_ boys. That’s what she called them. The museum called them the Howling Commandos, but they didn’t give themselves that name. “I don’t have supplies.”

“I also come bearing gifts.” he said, wincing as he held up a square, black bag. She looked at Bucky again, but he only shrugged; he didn’t know what was in there. Steve sank down onto the couch, putting the bag on the coffee table. Luce eyed it, listening for any signs of explosives, sniffing the air for any scents of poisons. Bucky came to stand next to her, and with that vote of confidence, she undid the zipper and flipped open the top.

Gauze. Forceps. Suture kits. A bottle of antiseptic. Bandages. Everything for a basic battle kit. Everything was new and shiny, not the old, rusted instruments they used in Hydra bunkers. After all, they did not have to worry about infections when their subjects couldn’t get sick.

“You need to shower. And put on clothing that gives me access to your injuries.” she said. She could hear the clinical clip to her tone; it was not Summer, but it also wasn’t Doc. It was somewhere in between.

“Yes, ma’am.” Steve said, hauling himself to his feet and picking up his other bag again. Bucky directed him to the guest room, returning once the shower turned on. He came back to Luce, putting a light hand on her back and smiling as she leaned into the touch a little more, her eyes still on the supplies in front of her.

“You don’t have to do this.” he said. “I can, if you need me to.”

She shook her head. She was confident in a few things, and this was one of them. “I want to. I need to do this.” she said with a nod. After all, didn’t they decide two years ago that they wanted to help people? Bucky smiled, waiting a beat before leaning over and kissing the side of her head.

“You’re doing great.” he said, making a little more confidence bubble up from where it was hiding. The shower cut off, and a few minutes later Steve returned in some shorts, holding up the leg of his pants so that he wouldn’t get blood on it. A gnarly gash split open his skin and a couple layers of the muscle below; he would definitely need stitches. Bruising already splashed across his torso where the rib was injured, a mild deformity showing under the skin; she might have to reset it, so that it wouldn’t puncture a lung.

“Ready when you are, Do - Luce.” he corrected himself.

“On the couch.” she said. Her treatment plan was already a mile long, perfectly and carefully organized by level of importance. Bucky was looking at Steve out of the corner of his eye.

“I don’t know about this.” he said, and Luce realized he was talking about Steve’s state of undress. Why did that matter?

Oh wait.

Jealousy?

Interesting.

“I’ve seen more of him before.” she said, matter-of-fact. Bucky perked an eyebrow and Steve’s cheeks tinged pink, and Luce ignored them both.

“I don’t think that helps.” Steve whispered, hissing as she started cleaning the wounds.

“I need to reset your rib.” she said, palpating along the length of it. Steve clenched his jaw against the pain, still pointedly not looking at his friend.

“Really? No further comment?” Bucky asked. She paused her examination, her fingers finding the borders of the rib. She looked up at him, brows together.

“Why does that need further comment?” she asked. Steve held his breath, waiting to see what Bucky said. Perfect. Luce pulled at one end of the rib and pushed at the other, a satisfying crack echoing through the living room as the ends of the bone fit back together.

“Fuck a duck, Doc!” Steve said, shooting up and putting a hand over the spot. He did notice that it was a little easier to breathe, but that was beside the point.

“Uh uh. I know you’re more here than that.” Bucky said to her, ignoring the writhing Steve. Luce looked at him with wide eyes and a soft mouth, her head tilted to the side.

“I don’t understand.” she said. She very much did understand.

“I don’t wanna be here for this.” Steve said from the couch, earning Luce’s attention again as he tried to get up. She shoved him down and picked up a suture kit and opened it, deftly threading the needle and getting to work on his leg. He let out a sharp groan at the first bite, but kept quiet after that as she quickly stitched the long laceration. She didn’t remember until halfway through that she probably should have administered a local anesthetic, but he seemed to be dealing with it alright.

“Technically, you could also tell the story.” Bucky pointed out, taking advantage of the fact that Steve currently could not run away from the conversation. Luce stayed distinctly silent, focused on her work as if multitasking wasn’t one of her greatest skills.

“Not much of a story.” Steve said through gritted teeth, his hands gripping the couch as she continued to sew his skin back together. “Just a miscommunication and unfortunate timing.”

“Uh huh.” Bucky said, not completely convinced. Luce tied off the last of the stitches, admiring her neat handiwork for a moment before sitting back.

“It was a cold river. Hardly an impressive moment.” she commented, going to put the supplies back. Bucky barked out a laugh at the implication, whereas Steve made an indignant noise.

“Ouch, Doc! Shit, that hurt worse than the rib!” he said, putting a hand over his wounded heart. She tilted her head again, making him nervous with her stare.

“Why? It’s not like we were romantically involved. And you weren’t ere-“

“I’m going to go put more clothes on!” Steve interrupted, ignoring his injuries and getting up from the couch.

“But I still need to-“

“Nope, I’m good enough.” he said, walking a little easier now that his leg didn’t have a huge gash. Luce watched him walk away and couldn’t help the slightest grin that escaped. What a day! Even being as far behind as she was, she still felt accomplished. She turned to Bucky, for once not afraid of the affection that burned behind her sternum when she looked at him. He was smiling at her, amused by the situation but also expressing something she couldn’t quite interpret. He moved close to her and kissed the top of her head.

“Proud of you.” he murmured into her hair. She didn’t even stay still whenever he was near, didn’t even feel like she needed to run. The energy she felt the past months, the one that didn’t allow her to sit still or to trust what she saw, was finally starting to quiet.

Home, she realized. She felt like she was home.


	51. Shot - October 2, 1944

**Chapter 51: Shot**

**October 2, 1944**

“You promised.” Lu said, following Bucky down the hallway. He was late for a meeting, and she was supposed to be in the med bay doing…whatever important work she did, but instead she was here, somehow keeping up with him.

“Can we talk about this later?” he asked, tucking in his shirt and straightening his uniform tie. He still didn’t understand why they had to get all snazzed up just to go to work in the SSR building, but he did it, because he still needed a paycheck and Steve said he wasn’t allowed to leave.

“You’ve been saying that for nearly three weeks.” she pointed out, taking a turn around a corner much easier than he did. Damn, when did she get so fast? She grabbed his sleeve, forcing him to stop. “Barnes, please.”

“We’ll do it, I swear, but I’m late right now-“

“When though?” she asked, and he made the mistake of looking her right in the eyes. Once he caught sight of those stupid, beautiful, bright green eyes, he knew he was really and truly fucked. He sighed, running a hand through his hair and checking his watch. He was also really and truly _late_.

“At the very latest, this weekend.” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders, hoping his mental calendar was correct. He hadn’t made any mistakes with the days in a long time, but that didn’t mean he was perfect. “I want to do it right, okay? So we need like, a couple uninterrupted hours.”

“But we never get that-“ she started to complain, but he stopped her.

“We’ll find it.” he said, kissing her cheek a little rougher than he meant to. She didn’t notice - or at least, she didn’t say anything. She was too busy looking perfectly unamused. “Maybe even today, after this meeting. The one I need to get to. Cause I’m really goddamn late.”

“Okay, okay.” she said, squeezing his hands and letting him go. He took a few running steps before stopping, sliding as his leather soled shoes lost traction with the tile. He still managed to turn, going back the few feet and giving her a proper kiss goodbye. She smiled, pushing him away. “You should go, I think you’re running late.”

“Oh, you’re lucky I love you.” he muttered, going back the way he was supposed to if only to hide his grin. She was laughing to herself, the sound fading as he rounded the last corner to the war room, the door still cracked open. More than likely Steve left it open for him and whoever else was running late; these things sometimes happened fast. He tried to console himself with that thought, though he had more than enough time to get here.

Bucky slipped into the room nearly silent. The projector was already on and shining on the wall map, X’s and O’s and flags noting important places. The bigger, more detailed map that took up the whole table had sinister shadows dancing across it in the flashing light, the men surrounding it blinking in and out of existence with each rotation. He clocked the faces in the room and found Morita and Dugan to be missing - ha! He wasn’t the last one!

“Thank you for joining us, Sergeant Barnes.” Peggy’s crisp voice cut like a knife. He may not be the last one, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still in trouble.

“Sorry, couldn’t find my tie.” he said, totally not bitter about having to wear one. Steve smirked, looking extra evil in the low light.

“Was it around-“

“Shut up, All American Boy.” Bucky interrupted, not wanting at all to know where he was going with that. Steve smacked the table before pointing at him, trying to keep a stern, fatherly face on.

“Hey now, son.” he said. “It’s All American Man to you.”

“I’m about to whoop your All American Ass-“

“Boys! Please!” Peggy interjected like a whip. “We are supposed to be professionals here.”

“Oh no, I never signed up for that-“ Bucky started.

“Yea, that wasn’t included in the paperwork Erskine had me sign-“

“I’m just a poor boy from Brooklyn, Miss-“

“Please, Miss, we’re just kids from Brooklyn-“

“We can’t even talk without our tongues getting stuck to our teeth-“

“Or was it _not_ touching our teeth? I can’t remember what you said-“

“Would you bloody shut it!” Peggy finally snapped. She didn’t raise her voice, per say. But she certainly wasn’t quiet about it. Neither Bucky nor Steve had the decency to blush or look sheepish, instead just grinning at each other like the two school boys they used to be. She pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a few slow, steady breaths as she attempted to put on her posh British mask back in its place. “We’re here for important business - no!” She held up a finger, preventing them from coming back at her with more jokes. “I am the only one allowed to speak from now on.”

“Sorry we’re late, boys.” Dugan said, crashing into the room and effectively ruining Peggy’s very brave attempt at keeping order. She threw her hands up, rolling her eyes with all the grace of a disgruntled grandmother.

“Ugh, men!” she said, looking to high heaven for anyone who might help her. Dugan and Morita paused, looking at each other and then at the others in the room, trying to figure out what was going on. Bucky shook his head when they looked his way, and Steve held a finger to his lips to keep them silent. Peggy was right, they needed to be serious. The sooner they were serious, the sooner they could leave and go back to being delinquents. Delinquents with a license to find Nazi science bunkers and fuck them right up.

Sometimes, Bucky really loved his job.

“Can we get started?” Peggy asked, not at all sounding dead inside. The men turned, clasped their hands, and actually settled down so that she could begin speaking. Sure, they were pranksters. And sometimes they got a little too rowdy. But when it came time to get down to it, they would listen to Peggy with both ears and their brains, and follower her instruction through hell and back. She pulled a pen from her pocket and unfurled it into a pointer, using the point to circle an area on the map that, for once, had no marks on it.

“No Man’s Land?” Falsworth offered, and Peggy nodded grimly. Whatever was going to happen in No Man’s Land, it wasn’t going to be good.

“The Nazis have been building a rail line. Most of it goes through claimed land with multiple checkpoints. But it will also pass through here, where there’s no nearby Ally camps - and no support camps either.” she explained.

“So we’re gonna blow it up?” Dernier asked, just a touch too excited about it. Peggy shook her head, her perfect curls somehow staying where they should.

“Not yet. If we let them finish it, if we let them think it’s a safe option…” she trailed off, closing down the pointer.

“Then we can ambush it.” Steve finished, earning him a wide smile.

“Exactly St - Captain Rogers.” she said. They all noticed the slip up. None of them commented on it. “One day, someone or something important will be on that train. And that is when we will strike.”

“When is supposed to finish?” Bucky asked. He had a bad feeling about this mission, but in general he had a bad feeling about most missions. He was learning to ignore that feeling.

“In another six weeks.” she said. She moved over to the table, her heels clicking against the linoleum floor. She pushed a few of the pieces to the same spot on the map there, carefully positioning each one. “Mr. Dernier, Captain Rogers, Private Morita, Sergeant Dugan. You four will scout the area and make preliminary plans for our attack. The rest of you will begin packing and training for another raid in Poland to take place next week.”

Well, here were the uninterrupted hours Bucky needed for Lu.

Once questions were answered, plans were hashed, and everything gone over again in excruciating detail, they were finally cut free to go back to their duties. Lu was back in the med bay, actually getting work done, while he went back to his desk to finish reports, fill out some requests, and in general do the stupid paperwork that he thought he’d escaped whenever his number was drawn.

He actually finished his work before Lu finished hers, and when he went down to the med bay to get her he found her meticulously cataloguing and organizing her cabinet of supplies. She gave him a bright smile when he entered, but he didn’t capture her attention for long as she went back to the counting.

“I’m almost done.” she said, her words a little slow as she tried to voice them and keep track of the numbers in her head. He wanted to tease her for subtly using her fingers to keep track, but figured she would stop doing it if he pointed it out, and the habit was rather endearing.

“Good. Because Agent Carter gave out a new mission, and I suddenly have some free time.” he said. She stopped her counting, looking up at him with surprise.

“Really?” she asked. “So we can start today?”

“If you really want to. And if you think you’re ready.” he said lightly, fully expecting the scoff she tossed at him.

“Of course I’m ready. I’ve cut off limbs before, Barnes, I hardly think this will be a task.” she said, ducking her head down and continuing her work with renewed fervor. “If you don’t want to wait, you could actually help.”

“My help comes with a price, as you know.” he grinned, leaning close to her face. She turned, and to her credit, did not startle at his presence. She tilted her head to the side, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh? And what price would that be?” she asked, her tone enough to make his blood heat up. He swallowed back the saucy responses.

“A single kiss, if you please.” he said, imitating Falsworth’s British accent. She let out a disbelieving _hmph_, but leaned in to give him a tender kiss nonetheless.

“There you go. Payment given.” she said, handing him a supply sheet.

“And received.” he replied, trying not to sound too disappointed as he eyed more paperwork. Oh, the things he did for love. To her credit, more hands definitely did make for less work, and it was just past quitting time whenever they put up the last box and filed the last paper. But instead of going for the front doors, Bucky tucked her hand into his elbow and led her down to the basement.

“Thank you. For doing this.” she said softly, leaning into him. She was getting much more comfortable with affection nowadays, unless they were surrounded by their colleagues. Even then, he’d been known to sneak a touch or two on her shoulder or knee, like the true miscreant that he was.

“Don’t thank me yet.” he replied, opening the last door in the hallway and ushering her into the dark room. “And remember, it’s all about safety first.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” she said, saluting him. He rolled his eyes and flipped on the lights, showing the shooting range and the carefully stacked weapons. “Which one is mine?”

“Technically none of these are yours until you pass a marksman test.” he replied. Little did she know, he had actually done even _more_ paperwork two weeks ago in advance of this little tutorial, because the last thing the SSR needed in a time of war was for ammunition to go missing due to unsanctioned lessons. He picked up one of the smaller caliber pistols, holding it flat in his hands. She went to take it but he moved it just out of her reach, shaking his head. “Hold on, the most important information comes before the shooting part.”

“Duly noted.” she said, completely serious. Gone was any teasing or sarcasm, and suddenly he could see how she managed to convince the military into thinking she was ready for nursing school.

“This is the safety,” he said, pointing to the little button. “Here means that it’s on, that it _shouldn’t_ fire. Here means it’s off, and the weapon is live. Now, here is the most important thing to remember: always, _always_, treat a weapon as if the safety is off and a round is in the chamber.”

“No horseplay.” she agreed immediately. “No risks.”

“Exactly.” he said, and he wondered if there was an area in nursing that she had the same lesson. “When you go to shoot, you line up the pin in the hole -“ he pointed the gun down and away from them, tapping the spots on the barrel. “-and just squeeze the trigger. You don’t want to pull it with just your finger, that’ll fuck with the aim.”

“Well we can’t have that.” she said, amused by his language. He realized a moment too late that oh, right, he was perhaps supposed to watch his words around her sometimes.

“If you’ve got a problem with my mouth, you can take it up with it later.” he said. “But seriously. The less individually moving parts, the better. I’m not teaching you this just for shits and giggles.” Her face did not say she was here for shits and giggles, but she didn’t comment on it. She simply nodded, especially when he looked at her with a seriousness that rarely graced his features. “I’m teaching you this so you can protect yourself. So if it comes down to it, if you’re aiming this at someone, you aim to kill, you hear me?”

“I…” she trailed off, the gravity of the situation settling on her. He knew it was important for her to learn, especially in their line of business. But he also needed her to understand that it wasn’t something to take lightly.

“Doc, your life always comes first.” he said softly. “That’s how you stay alive in this war.”

She took a shuddering breath, wondering exactly how many patron saints of medics she was making roll in their graves. “I understand. Shoot to kill.”

“Good.” he said with a nod. He pulled out a case of bullets, counting out the sanctioned amount for his lesson. He set them up, sitting on their ends on the table like good little soldiers, all in a row.

“I may be new at this,” Lu said, eyeing them. “But aren’t they supposed to go _in_ the gun?”

“Ah, see, there’s the mistake that they make in the Army.” Bucky said. He checked the handgun three separate times, making sure the safety was still on and that it wasn’t loaded, even checking the chamber to make sure it was still empty. He’d heard too many horror stories about surprise rounds left in the chamber, and he was not going to risk Lu getting hurt. “They assume learning to shoot starts with the bullets. But you gotta start even more basic than that.”

He pulled a target from the pile and walked it down to the wall, carefully pinning it in place. Lu watched him intently, wondering if this was some sort of act, some way to make her nervous or to flirt with her. It wouldn’t be entirely unlike him. But he returned to the line and picked up the pistol, checking once more that it was unloaded, not trusting the other times before. He held it out to her, one eyebrow raised.

“Ready, Sergeant.” she said. She took the gun from him, making sure to point the muzzle away and towards the floor.

“Alright, don’t think about it. Just put it up and aim towards the target.” he said, moving behind her. He made sure to keep a hand on her back, so she knew where he was the whole time. He raised up on his toes so he could see over her head and down the line of her arm. “Close your right eye.”

“Why not the left one?” she asked, doing as he asked. Her position did not change at all.

“Cause you’re using that one.” he replied, deciding to be cheeky instead of discussing eye dominance and how it played into long range shots. He moved his hand to her shoulder, sliding down her arm until she dropped the weapon to the floor again. “Okay, so position is key.”

“Is it now?” she asked, smirking and glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. Bucky’s eyebrows shot up.

“Really? Now is the time you’ve chosen to be all bawdy with me?” he asked. “You’ve been reading too many of those damn books.”

“Or you’ve corrupted me.” she reminded him. He felt a poke of guilt followed by a wallop of pride. He smiled despite himself.

“One of my crowning achievements.” he said. “But I digress. So, we start with the hands-“

“Not always-“

“Doc.” he hated to talk to her like that, but they had limited time and a lot to learn. He would make up for it later. Her smile dropped, her cheeks coloring pink. She stood up a little taller, definitely wanting to get defensive, but stopping at the look on his face.

“This is really serious, huh?” she asked quietly. Gone was the humor in her voice, and while she was still blushing, she seemed to understand. He nodded.

“Deadly serious.” he replied, just as soft. “We don’t have a lot of time. I need to make sure that you know this stuff, just in case I’m not there with you, you know?”

“Yea, yea I know.” she said. She licked her lips and cleared her throat, setting her shoulders to really get the pose. She could focus on this. She _needed_ to focus on this.

“We start with the hands.” he tried again, reaching down with confident fingers and resetting her grip. Already she felt like she had better control over the weapon. “One is to squeeze, and one is to stabilize. Arms should be locked. You want to prevent as much extra motion as possible.”

“Locked arms.” she echoed, straightening out her elbows. His hands went to her hips, straightening them out so that she was facing her target head on.

“Knees soft, to catch the recoil. Core engaged, so you don’t get knocked back.” he said. He kept his hands on her waist, feeling as she engaged the muscles. He was close enough that she could feel the fabric of his shirt barely catch on the back of her uniform.

“Do you instruct your men like this as well?” she asked, unable to keep it in. However, since she was listening to his instructions, he allowed it; it just took him a moment to decide how to answer.

“Oh no, you’re special.” he said. He thought about joking that yes, he definitely treated all his men this way, but that would just open them up for more jokes and then the whole lesson (which was on the edge of a knife already) would be completely derailed. “Alright, aim again.”

She did, lifting her arms up straight and closing her right eye. Eventually she would be good enough to keep both eyes open, but they would start basic for now. This time, she felt more secure as she stared down the barrel towards the target, lining up the pin with the bullseye. He had her lower her arms and repeat the gesture a few more times until she was comfortable with it, the movement becoming more fluid. Then he took the gun from her hands, smirking as she pried her fingers from the handle.

“How old were you when you learned to shoot?” she asked, cracking her joints and shaking out her limbs. She hadn’t realized how stiff she’d held herself, trying to concentrate and keep still. It wasn’t in her nature to be so statuesque, despite what her mother tried to instill in her as a young girl.

“Hmm…twenty, I think? That’s when I joined the force.” he said, loading the gun with three rounds. “It was quick cause things were getting a little rough, but luckily I picked it up.”

“When’s the first time you…” she trailed off, letting the question fall. “Nevermind.”

“Morocco. My first deployment.” he said. He didn’t look at her as he spoke; hell, he wasn’t even sure why he was telling her this. It wasn’t a good memory. “Got off the boat and onto the battlefield. We were all green, and thirsty, and seasick as hogs and had to hit the ground running. I was scared shitless, found cover, and remembered later that I had a rifle. First shot, first kill.” He clicked the safety off and on again, if only for something to do with his hands. It was an old habit that he’d broken long before, but it cropped up every once in a while.

“I’m sorry, Barnes.” she said, reaching out to take his hand. He squeezed it, letting her soothe him for a moment.

“It’s bad but,” he paused, once again willing himself to shut up and failing miserably. “That’s the only kill I remember. Besides that…I just remember the people I couldn’t save.” Camp, Harrison. Jameson, Thompson, Holmes, Frazier. He blinked himself out of the memories, out of the names that haunted him when the cages did not. He looked back up at Lu. “I won’t have you be one of them.”

She blinked a few times, her breath catching for a moment before her lungs remembered how to work. Dumbly she nodded, reaching out to put a hand on his cheek. “You did the best you could.” she said, matter-of-fact. When he went to argue, she interrupted. “No, you did. We both did. And now all we can do is move forward, for the ones we lost.”

This war was hell. But she was right.

“C’mon. We’re burning daylight.” he said, handing the pistol to her again. She gave him a small smile, as encouraging as she could, before turning back to the target. “Alright, flip the safety.” She did. “Check your stance.” She did, making sure her knees were soft and her muscles engaged. “Sight the target.” She locked her elbows, remembering the movement from a few minutes ago. He stood right behind her, a pillar of strength, supporting her. “Load a round.” She did, the gun moving awkwardly as she performed the unfamiliar motion. “Now, breathe. You have all the time you need. All the time in the world.” She took slow, steady breaths, trying to relax her grip and steady herself. Suddenly, she felt nervous to pull the trigger, unsure how the gun was going to react in her hands. She’d seen shots fired a thousand times, but had yet to feel it herself. “Then, when you’re ready, squeeze.” She held her breath and did as she was told, the force from the gun actually knocking her back. She hit Bucky’s chest, his steady hands on her waist keeping her upright.

“Whoa.” she said, lowering the weapon and flipping the safety on, just as instructed. A thrill went through him, one that he didn’t quite understand and wasn’t going to think about. “That was…not what I expected.”

“More? Or less?”

“Less, actually.” she said, realizing she’d missed the target completely but not caring one bit. He was standing close behind her - enticingly close - but she brought her focus back to the weapon in her hand. The click of the safety, the shift of her feet, and she was ready for her second shot. It was easier to sight the target this time, and she didn’t focus so much on her grip now that she knew what to expect with the recoil. The second shot, she was rewarded with a perfect hole ripping into the second outermost ring of the target. “I hit it!”

“You’re a natural.” Bucky said, trying to stay even-keeled despite the joy on her face. “One more.”

She nodded, determined now. She went through all the steps, totally was _not_ distracted by his hands on her waist and the heat of him so close to her, and this time hit a little closer to the center. She couldn’t help the satisfied grin as she flipped the safety back on, making sure to hand the weapon back to him handle first.

“Very good.” he said. “You’re already a better shot than half the guys I went through the Academy with.”

“I really hope you’re exaggerating.” she replied, watching as he reloaded the weapon with the last three shots. “You’ll make me afraid to live in New York.”

“Yea? You planning on moving?” he asked, pretending that his heart didn’t just flip like the trapeze artists he saw back in 1935. He could feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck, and when he glanced over, Lu was blushing again too.

“Well, I figured I’d like New York better than you’d like Virginia.” she mumbled, as if she didn’t actually want to answer out loud. His grin widened and he put the gun down so that he could put his arms around her, allowing just enough space so he could look down at her.

“Oh? You’re planning on shacking up after the war or something?” he teased. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he didn’t allow it, knowing that he was torturing her with this sort of talk and enjoying every minute of it.

“Barnes!” she said, exasperated.

“C’mon, Doc, humor me.” he said. They rarely said things explicitly to each other beyond _I love you_, but every once in a while, it was nice to hear the sickly sweet things. She glared up at him, crossing her arms over her chest and resolutely _not _hugging him back.

“Well, I was just hoping to be with you the rest of my life. That’s all.” she said. Bucky feigned shock, complete with dramatic gasp.

“What? Me?” he asked, earning a pinch to his chest. His joy outweighed the pain. “You wanna deal with me that long?”

“You’re seriously making me reconsider-“

“You’d marry me?” he asked it lightly, but even he felt the way his heart stuttered. She rolled her eyes.

“I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again.” she said, unaware that she hadn’t said it since he bought the ring still sitting in the ‘unused’ cabinet in his kitchen. “I would. I would marry you, and move to New York or Virginia or even fucking Italy with you, and have a family with you-“ she paused, as if she just noticed she was saying these things out loud. She decided to persevere. “I want forever with you, Barnes.”

“That’s my last name.” he said with a smile. “You want it?”

“Is that a proposal?” she asked, raising one eyebrow. He shook his head.

“No ring, no proposal.” he replied, resolving to start carrying the ring with him at all times, just in case the perfect moment happened to strike. He didn’t get kicked out of the Boy Scouts in 1928 to dare be _unprepared_.

“Hmph.” she said, unable to come up with a response. She glanced over at the gun. “Are you gonna let me shoot those last rounds?”

“Let’s make a wager.” he replied.

“Oh yea?” she asked. “What’s the bet?”

“Winner picks where we live.” he said. “You hit the bullseye, you win. You don’t, I win.”

She stared at him for a long moment, all the seriousness of the conversation gone now that a competition was here. “Deal.” she said, holding out her hand in the limited space between them. He let go of her enough to shake it, bringing it up to brush his lips across her knuckles before she noticed. She got the gun, took her position, clicked off the safety, and went through the whole routine.

First shot: third ring from the outside. An admirable shot, really.

Second shot: overcorrected. Nearly off the page on the opposite side of the paper.

Bucky wasn’t worried as she lined up her last shot. He’d live in a cardboard box under the Brooklyn Bridge if that’s what she wanted…but he’d draw the line at New Jersey. She took her time, her full attention on the sight, and despite all his harping on her safety he wanted so badly to distract her with hands on her hips and a kiss to her neck, but he refrained. He let her shoot the last round, unable to hide a triumphant smile as it went just wide of the center.

“Unlucky, Doc.” he said, watching as she clicked the safety back on and handed the gun back to him. She looked a little surly, though it was just because she’d lost, not necessarily the loss of the bet. “Guess it’s the cold streets of London for forever.”

“You wouldn’t.” she said, still watching like a hawk as he cleaned the weapon and returned it to its spot.

“You’ll just have to wait and see, huh?” he asked. He threw an arm over her shoulders, leading her out of the range. “Come on. Let’s go get some food and head back. I know you have a new book you wanna read.”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to read _those books_.” she said, dropping her voice to imitate his. He nuzzled her neck, kissing the soft skin there and earning a gasp and a squirm and a swat to the arm. Worth it.

“Oh, I never said you shouldn’t read them.” he said. “By all means, keep reading them. I only reap the benefits.”

“You’re terrible.” she said, her whole face red with embarrassment as they started passing people in the hallway. He dropped his arm from her shoulders, instead taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his elbow.

“Ah, but I’m yours.” he replied. She sighed heavily.

“I suppose.” she relented. She let go of him long enough to get her coat from the hook by the door, Bucky helping her into it before throwing his on himself. It was raining outside, the steady kind that London was famous for. He grabbed her umbrella before she could, making sure to step outside before opening it. She tucked in close to him so they were both covered, not minding that they had to walk slowly to stay dry.

“Love you, Doc.” he said, using the umbrella cover to lay a kiss to the top of her head.

“I love you too, Barnes.” she replied. “And I’ll happily live anywhere with you. As long as I get you forever.”

“As long as you want me, you’ve got me.” he replied. “It’s you and me, baby.”

“You and me.” she echoed. The rain picked up and he pulled her closer, making sure to protect her against the wind. Despite the weather, and the war, and everything in between, he couldn’t help but feel happy, his heart so full he thought it was going to burst.

It wasn’t so bad walking in the cold rain when he had a warm home and a woman he loved at the end.


	52. Follow Through - September 4, 2016

**Chapter 52: Follow Through**

**September 4, 2016**

Bucky eyed the record player on the stand, wondering if it was in the right place - or if they should even keep it at all. Steve had dropped it off at the house a couple days prior, but they’d had another kid in the barn and thus hadn’t had time to set it up. Now that it was up, he couldn’t help but feel like it didn’t quite belong in the room with all the Wakanda tech casually strewn about. The farmhouse wasn’t up to the standards of the palace or the city apartments, but it was still lightyears ahead of the last place they lived in that had a record player.

But he also didn’t want to move it.

Steve left a few records, ones that he found in the flats that the SSR rented to Luce and Bucky back when they were Doc and Barnes. Bucky almost wanted to ask what else Steve managed to find and save from those apartments, but he knew for a fact he wasn’t going to like the answer. They kept just enough in those apartments to stay alive and relatively comfortable, and anything actually important was kept on their person at all times. Besides, it didn’t matter if they found Luce’s old ring. Bucky no longer had a left hand to go with hers, and didn’t know if she’d even want it. And honestly, he preferred it that way.

He flipped through the records, finding one that he remembered being very popular back in the day. His mind couldn’t remember any of the songs, but he at least remembered Bing Crosby being rather important. It was difficult to coax the vinyl record from its sleeve with only one hand, but he managed, gently settling it onto the turntable and flicking the machine on. It whirred to life in a way that would make Shuri cringe, which made him smile for some reason. He carefully lifted the needle, laying it down onto the edge of the record with the most tenderness he’d shown since they walked away from Hydra. The familiar crackles of vinyl made the room come alive, and he stepped back to admire his handiwork as violins echoed through the small space.

“What’s this?” Luce’s voice almost startled him. He couldn’t hear her steps over the song, but he could still feel her presence, a ghost floating in his periphery until she decided to make herself known. He turned to her with a smirk.

“Music.” he said, knowing the answer was obvious. The look Luce gave him was one of utter annoyance, which only made his grin widen.

“I know that, thanks.” she huffed, coming to stand next to him. He watched as her eyes found a spot on the record and followed it around, and he was momentarily as mesmerized by her as she was by the record. All this time, and she was still beautiful enough to render him completely stupid. “You used to love this stuff.” she said as Bing started singing, his velvety smooth voice crooning the romantic lyrics.

“You used to as well.” he reminded her. She furrowed her brows, tilting her head to the side the same way Mario did when he was trying to hear better. She absorbed a few lines of the lyrics, taking her lips between her teeth as she tried her damndest to remember.

“Right. Dancing.” she said, the memory finally sliding into place but her face staying the same. “We used to go dancing.”

“We weren’t much good at it.” he said, affirming her thought. She continued to watch the record spin, matching the gears in her head as she worked.

“Did we have one at home too?” she asked, pointing at the record player and looking like she was grasping onto the details of a dream. Bucky knew the feeling well; that was often how he felt, when new memories started cropping up. She finally stopped watching the record, turning her arresting gaze onto him instead.

“We did.” he said with a nod. Something in his chest warmed at her words; the record player had been in his flat, and it was nice to hear that even now she’d considered it home. “It helped you sleep, when the nights got too quiet.”

“Right. Cause when we were out, the crickets…” she trailed off, and he picked up right where she left it.

“Sang you to sleep.” he said. “That’s what you said, yea.”

“They sounded better than the cicadas in the summer.” she said, barely flinching as her old name passed her lips, even out of context. He couldn’t help but grin again.

“You said that back then too.” he said. Repeating things wasn’t necessarily bad; if anything, it meant that even more was popping up. She still got frustrated that he remembered so much more than she did, and he had to casually remind her that she currently one-up on the brain scramble scale. All would come in due time.

The song faded, more crackles going before another song picked up. Bucky held out his hand to her. “What?” she asked, eyeing his hand like he was going to strike her with it, even if he was offering it open and palm up.

“Dance with me.” he said. She blinked at him, her eyes flicking between his and his hand.

“I don’t know if I remember how.” she finally admitted, her voice quiet, just on the upside of defeated. He moved a little closer, offering his hand out again.

“It’s okay. I’m at a disadvantage too.” he said, shrugging his left shoulder. She hesitated for another moment before reaching out, her fingertips resting on his. He guided her hand to his shoulder, slipping his around her waist to pull her close. “We’ll take it slow.”

She didn’t say anything, instead concentrating as he moved her through careful steps. She was relearning them, and he was learning how to navigate them without a lead arm, but in the end there were no broken toes and no awkward bumps between noses and chins, so all in all he would call it a success. The song faded to the next one, and Luce let her arms slide over his shoulders, moving closer to him. He wrapped his arm protectively around her, leaning his cheek against her head as their dance slowed to a sway. She didn’t feel the need to fidget or shift, the music providing enough distraction and the pressure of Bucky’s body against her subduing her anxious energy. His chest vibrated underneath her chin as he hummed along with the song.

“You remember the words?” she asked, both surprised and jealous. The lyrics were tender and romantic, and they gave her a proper conduit to channel the feelings she was still reconciling. But they slipped from her mind as soon as she heard them, not quite sticking.

“No, I don’t.” he whispered, and she missed the sound of the humming. “Just the tune.”

They stayed there through the next song and the next, until the needle was jumping over the middle of the record. He was supposed to flip it right now, that much he knew. But he didn’t want to let go of Luce, and the crackles and thumps were enough of a dance track anyway. Mario, however, was tired of this, and wedged his nose between their legs. Luce pulled away immediately, but it was not due to discomfort or overstimulation. It was so she could drop to one knee and scratch the dog behind his ears, making him grumble in happiness and look up at Bucky with what he swore was a shit-eating grin.

“I’ll live longer than you, punk.” Bucky murmured, earning a glare from Luce. She covered the dog’s ears with her hands, and he leaned into her touch.

“Be nice to him.”

“I am nice. I let him live in the house.” he said. Luce raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, you _let_ him, huh?” she asked. Her tone suggested that he had, in fact, fucked up. “Maybe we just let _you_ live in the house.”

Bucky, of course, refused to see the error of his ways and simply shrugged. “I could live in the barn. We’ve lived in worse places before.”

“You’d be in the barn by yourself.” she reminded him. “And most of those places we only survived because we were together.”

He paused, his brain whirring as he tried to come up with a response. But she had him there. “Alright, you win.” he sighed, making her grin. He bent down and scratched the dog under the chin; supposedly dogs couldn’t understand much language, but he sure as hell knew he was in charge. “You’re alright I guess.”

“Thank you.” she said, pressing a kiss to the dog’s head. Mario, satisfied with this attention and the fact that he’d stolen it from Bucky, trotted off to go jump on their bed, choosing to snooze in the corner that got steady sunlight from the window. Bucky shook his head, giving Luce one last look before going to the door. “Are you going to the market today?”

“Yes. Is there something specific you need?” he asked, pulling on his boots. When she didn’t answer, he turned to look at her, finding her picking anxiously at the skin around her thumbnail. He stepped back, taking both her hands in his one to stop the movement. “What is it? What do you need?” He couldn’t think of anything she would ask him to buy that would warrant such a response. Some guys might be worried about something of a feminine nature, but considering Hydra had taken care of that on both of their parts, it had to be something else.

“I think I want to go with you.” she said. She was trying to put on a brave face, but he could hear the slightest tremor in her voice.

“Okay.” he said with a nod, checking the time. It was mid-morning on a weekday; it would be busy, but not unbearable. At least to him. “The streets will be busy. Visibility is difficult, but not impossible. And there are multiple escape routes.”

She nodded, standing up a little straighter. “And if I get…” She was unsure how to finish the sentence. Overwhelmed? Panicked? Attacked? She chose to just let it fall.

“Then we leave.” he said. It sounded so easy, and he sounded so confident in the plan. It made her feel confident too. He grabbed the bag next to the door, slinging it across his torso while Luce laced up her boots. Mario moved just enough too look at them through the door, but showed no signs of actually abandoning his post. Luce looked at him for a second and turned to Bucky, but he shook his head. “No, Mario has to stay. He’s not polite enough for the market yet.”

“He’s a very polite boy.”

“I said _yet_.” he qualified, not at all annoyed that his girl seemed to prefer a dog over him. He knew she was just messing with him, but the serum amplified all sorts of things in him, including jealousy. But he was the love of her life, the former Winter Soldier, the one who’d been with her through thick and thin, the good times and bad, till death do they part amen. And Mario was a dog.

A very cute dog, but he would never say that out loud.

“Fine, I’ll train him better then.” she said. He decided not to tease her anymore with it, instead tossing the second bag her way. She caught it deftly, pulling it over her shoulder.

“Sounds good. You ready?” he asked. He had every faith in Luce, and thought that she was actually ready to head to the market with him. But that didn’t negate the fact that this was a new experience for her, with a lot of variables and sensory input. It would likely go along just fine. But there was technically a chance that it would not.

Luce nodded, following him out the door and down the trail from their house. She was silent the entire way there, all signs of joking gone as she prepared for the mission in front of her. This could be a mission. This was going to the market mission. What normal people did. She’d been on countless stealth missions, hooked a dozen marks in places like this, but she hadn’t done anything like it since her most recent bunker stint. Her _last_ bunker stint, she reminded herself. She would never go back into one again.

“Don’t think of it as a mission.” Bucky murmured as they got closer to the market, just casually undoing every fiber of her plan. “That will make your senses too sharp and focused, but you’ll get overrun by everything. There’s no way to see or hear or smell everything. Trust me.”

“Not a mission.” she repeated, using her mission voice. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, but she stared straight ahead. They could see the market now, dark skinned people in brilliant colored clothing milling through the booths. Scents of different foods, both savory and sweet, spun through the air, making it come alive. The sheer cacophony of shoppers and hawkers and musicians somewhere in the melee would be enough to send Luce sprinting back home - if Bucky hadn’t warned her. Even with the warning, she could feel her muscles tensing, and her eyes flipped back and forth as she tried to take it all in.

“Not a mission.” he reminded her. He took her hand in his, the solid touch grounding her when her heart threatened to take off. “Not a mission.”

“Not a mission.” she said. Then she whispered it again, and again, just to make it stay. It was not a mission. They weren’t weapons anymore. They were just two people going to the market, holding hands.

Holding hands?

It took her a moment to realize he hadn’t let go of her hand. Their physical closeness, while not as intimate as it used to be (yet), had definitely increased in the past few weeks. But this would be the first time they would show affection in public - on purpose - in decades. He watched her, waiting for her to pull back or put more space between them. She did let go of his hand, but it was just so she could slide hers up to his elbow, holding onto the crook of it. Out of habit he bent his arm, looking every bit the Army officer that he used to be, with his girl on his arm. Fall was just starting, bringing the heat down to a manageable level, though the heat never seemed to bother her. He tugged her a little closer, watching as she regulated her breathing, as she took in all the sights like a casual observer. He knew she was still clocking every person she could, eyeing each exit and booth and patron in case of emergency. But her grip on his elbow was starting to relax, and the harsh look in her eyes softened as she reminded herself that this was _not a mission_.

The first stop was for vegetables. Bucky had a favorite vender, one who was roughly as old as them and had aged almost as well. She waved as he pushed his way to the front of the table, and he smiled in return. Luce’s smile was a second too late, but the woman didn’t seem to notice.

“White Wolf.” she said, holding her hands out to him. He reluctantly removed his arm from Luce to meet her hands. She grasped his one in both of hers, turning it over and running her fingertips over his palm. “Looking strong as ever. Who is this?”

“Luce.” he introduced. “This is Oe.”

“Come, young one, let me see.” Oe said, holding her hands out. Luce hesitated for a moment, glancing once more to Bucky for confirmation before giving her her hand.

“Are you a fortune teller?” she asked, earning an elbow to the ribs from Bucky. She glared at him, but he just continued to smile at the old woman. Oe, luckily, took the question in stride, and simply laughed.

“No, love.” she said. “I’ve just met a lot of people and seen a lot of hands.” She turned Luce’s palm up, immediately finding the scar over the meat of her thumb. Her brows furrowed for a moment as she traced over the lines, taking note of all of them.

“They’re not pretty hands.” Luce said quietly. Oe clicked her tongue, shaking her head.

“They’re just fine.” she said, patting her palm and letting her hand go. It took everything in her not to snatch her hand back; even if the woman was only looking at her palm, somehow it felt too invasive. She was afraid that Oe would see her past - or, even worse, her future. But the woman just smiled warmly. “They match his.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile. Even if they’d accepted long ago that they were meant for each other, it was still nice to hear. “At least one of them.” he said, shrugging his left shoulder. Oe chuckled, as if she were hiding a very juicy secret.

“Oh, don’t worry White Wolf.” she said cryptically. “Your hands will match soon enough. Now, how much of my vegetable are you buying today?”

It was completely impossible to barter with Oe, so Bucky didn’t even try anymore. He just bought what he needed, asked about her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, thanked her, and went on his way. His favorite fruit stand was empty that day, either due to lack of produce or already selling out, he didn’t know. But he was a little salty that he had to go to the second best, where the young man who helped stared openly at Luce, his eyes getting a little too friendly.

Bucky whistled sharply, and realized that what he felt early with the dog wasn’t jealousy, just annoyance. _This_ was jealousy. He wasn’t even afraid that the man would take Luce from him - they’d been through too much together for that - but he didn’t appreciate that this kid would assume it was okay to leer at her like that, that she was just another beautiful woman for him to consume.

Perhaps he was being dramatic. Before the serum, he’d been known to exhibit that quality too.

He whistled sharply, getting the guy’s attention. His smile was not near as warm or real as when he was looking at Luce. “Can I help you, White Wolf?” he asked, the perfect picture of politeness. This guy was slowly dropping down the ranks of his favorite fruit stands.

“Can I help _you_?” he asked in return. Now it was his turn to get an elbow to the ribs, though he didn’t allow Luce to see a grimace on his face. He’d forgotten how sharp her elbows were. The man’s smile faltered, and he allowed himself one more quick glance towards Luce - who had happily returned to smelling each of the apples, determining the best ones - before putting his full attention on Bucky.

“We have all your favorites today.” he said. Bucky didn’t know how much the general population of Wakanda knew about him or Luce or their past, but the man at least seemed to have a healthy bit of reservations.

“Sounds good to me.” he said, tilting his head to the side and giving the man a smile. Was he aware of how unhinged it looked? Yes. That was the point.

“Oh - okay.” the man said. Luce came back to Bucky’s side, tucking her hand into his arm once more.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.” she teased, sounding (and feeling) like her old self for a split second.

“You’re cute all the time.” he deadpanned. His voice no longer held the flirtatious lilt that he used to own, but the words were true all the same. Her cheeks turned a faint shade of pink that he hadn’t seen in a long time. When was the last time someone called her _cute_?

They got their fruit with no other issues, going on to get their grains. Meat and diary was mostly produced at home, between the chickens and the goats and the one brandless cow Bucky had found wandering the roads in the middle of the night. He was ready to return home at that moment, noticing that Luce was starting to fidget, her eyes getting antsy as her gaze bounced from person to person. He gently turned her, going to lead her back towards the house whenever she stopped dead.

“What? What is it?” he asked, feeling a tingling between his shoulder blades. Her head was tilted up, her eyes closed as she tried to hone in on other senses.

“Do you smell that?” she asked, and instead of sounding alarmed, she sounded curious, very nearly elated. He sniffed the air, smelling nothing but dirt and people and…

Sugar.

“Oh no.” Bucky muttered to himself. Luce heard it, but chose to ignore it.

“Where is that coming from?” she asked, untangling herself from Bucky’s grasp and going back into the market. Her eyes were pealed, and she moved easily between the other shoppers, whereas Bucky and his broad shoulders had to take a little more time. She was always better at moving through small spaces than him.

“Luce!” he called. She was ahead of him, still in sight but quickly moving away. “Slow down!” She did not. She was on a mission now, and there would be no stopping her. Soon he had to rely on his other senses, because despite being the only light skinned person besides himself, she’d managed to completely disappear into the crowd. So even though he really didn’t care for sweets, he had to track down the bakery by scent alone, which was its own special brand of torture.

He finally found her down a street he hadn’t ventured since his first trip, stopped in front of a window in the narrow brick buildings. He slowed to a walk, checking to make sure that all their food was still in his bag as he came to rest at her side.

“I need money.” she said, holding her hand out. He rolled his eyes, sliding his bracelet off his wrist and onto hers. A beautiful young woman clad in pinks and reds and yellows smiled at them; clearly the two of them had been chatting a little before he got there.

“This is your man?” she asked. Her accent was thicker than the other vendors they’d encountered, and slightly different. Her smile was also wider, more open, and made her very trustworthy. Or perhaps Luce just trusted the pretty confections in her window.

“Yes.” Luce said. Her words were quick and sure, and they still made his heart skip a beat.

“Hello, man.” the woman said, raising a hand.

“Hello, baker.” he replied, nodding his head. Luce held out her wrist, showing the bracelet.

“May I please purchase the cake now?” she asked, almost childlike in nature. Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her like this; after all the morning cuddles, and gentle words, and loving encouragement, it was a cake that completely unlocked her joy.

Sounded about right.

“Yes ma’am, you may.” she said, tapping her own bracelet and holding it out as well. When the transaction was complete, she removed a little square cake from the window, packaging it into a cardboard box that was barely big enough for it. “There you go, enjoy!”

“I will.” Luce said. Again, her words were blunt, which seemed to amuse the woman further. She went to move away, and Bucky poked her in the side. “What?”

“Manners.” he reminded her.

“Oh, right.” she said, turning back to the woman. “Congratulations on your pregnancy.”

“On my what?” she asked, standing up ramrod straight, Bucky smacked his hand to his forehead.

“Thank you. You were supposed to say thank you.” he said through gritted teeth.

“Wait-“ the woman, clearly confused, tried to stop them from leaving, but Bucky took Luce by the waistband and pulled her back towards the market.

“Careful, my cake.” she chastised, though both of them knew her balance and reflexes were too good for her to drop it.

“What happened to please and _thank you_?” he asked as they ducked into the crowd again. It was easier to navigate this time, taking only moments to make it out onto the clearer streets.

“Right. My mother is probably rolling in her grave.” Luce said, laughing to herself. “Don’t give unwarranted pregnancy comments. Got it.”

“I thought that would be a given.”

“I thought she knew.”

“Not everyone is as perceptive as you, my love.” he said. The words made both of them stop in their tracks, as it was the first time he’d called her that. They stood, staring at each other, Luce holding her cardboard box like a precious treasure and Bucky gripping the strap of his bag, hoping he hadn’t gone too far. But Luce only smiled.

“Duly noted, my love.” she replied, liking the way the words sounded. She turned, continuing the walk towards their home. “And don’t expect me to share any of this.”

“I would never.” he said. He’d made a promise long ago to get her a cake all to herself.

He was a little late, but he was finally following through.

**Author's Note:**

> hello! welcome to a new story! if you're here because of silver and honey, fair warning...this is gonna be completely different.
> 
> i hope y'all liked this lil intro chapter! please let me know what you think!!!


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